


Candy Hearts Bleed Ink

by Dean_Wax



Category: Original Work
Genre: Art School, Athletes, Betrayal, Blackmail, Bullying, Clothed Sex, Comedy, Crossdressing, Emo, Fashion & Couture, Friendship, Gay, Gay Male Character, Hand Feeding, Hand Jobs, High School, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mad Science, Male Slash, Mary Sue, Metafiction, Mind Manipulation, Molestation, Non-Consensual Groping, Original Slash, Parody, Plot Twists, Queer Themes, Racism, Rivalry, Science Fiction, Swim Team, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-08-21 01:16:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 59,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16566812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dean_Wax/pseuds/Dean_Wax
Summary: “Whoops,” Brent snickered, drawing back with the can and a devilish grin on his handsome face. “Gotchya shirt.”Oh, no. Nathaniel gasped and looked down at himself, and the shirt he’d spent hours meticulously pinning rows of safety pins onto to at exactly a quarter inch apart. Right across his chest at an angle, some parts on the cotton and some parts rippled where the paint hit the pins was a big, red ‘B’.“Don’t even think about changing,” Brent said menacingly, yanking open his locker and tossing the can inside with a rattle.===Nathaniel Willowisp is ready to start his first day at Tropes Academy for Artistic and Athletic Boys when part-time swimsuit model and full-time bully Brent Butcherson singles him out for no apparent reason. Things are about to take a SEXY turn for the worse!Come join me in my hysterical swan song to over 13 years of slash roleplay, where almost every character is terrible and the plot is ridiculous. Protagonist? Shy. Orbs? Shimmering blue. Fourth wall? Dubious at best. One part comedy and one part trauma recovery, strap in for a twist so convoluted that no one could possibly see it coming.





	1. Nathaniel's First Day at Tropes Academy

As dappled sunlight filtered through the window of his eclectically decorated bedroom, Nathaniel Willowisp’s piercing blue eyes delicately bloomed into view from beneath their thick veil of lashes. He had woken up just before his iPhone’s alarm again. With a melancholy smile he drew a deep breath he patiently let the sleep leave him. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at his uniquely-painted purple ceiling, dotted with paper snowflakes he had made himself to express his free spirit. After a few moments more his iPhone diligently began chirruping “ _ Ohayou~! Ohayou~! _ ”, so he pushed back the bedcovers and got up. 

 

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror,  Nathaniel flipped his silky raven fringe back with nubile, waifish fingers. This kind of passive self inspection was a regular morning routine for him. His pale skin was the colour of exotic chai tea with just a shade too much milk added after the honey; flawless except for the nasty stitches he knew were hidden underneath the large bandage on the left side of his chest. He’d already missed the first week of school because he’d still been in the hospital trying to correct his rare heart condition. Worse yet, he’d heard from his best friend Dudley that the teachers had announced his absence to the rest of the students at the orientation assembly, so everyone was gossiping about him and wondering who he was.

 

He just wasn’t sure he could handle that much attention, being so inherently shy. 

 

Biting his snakebite-pierced lip uncertainly, he pulled on some stripy socks and some pre-ripped black skinny jeans with alluring purple stitching after that, then tied the laces on his limited edition  _ Nondescript Street Art _ Converse Chuck Taylors. 

 

“Big day today,” he told himself with a brave little smile as he very carefully applied thick black eyeliner to his eyes. Nathaniel was quite pretty, and lots of people had told him that – on several occasions complete strangers on the street had told him he looked quite like Alex Evans but with a more feminine nose, higher cheekbones and a more expressive aura. Nathaniel wasn’t quite sure he could trust the opinions of psychics, but he did know that he didn’t like the way he looked. He’d never told a soul about how he hated his appearance; he just distracted from it with makeup. He didn’t want to worry anyone else with his problems; he was very considerate and self-aware like that.

 

He screwed his eyes shut tight to make the kohl smudge a little, then pulled on a white t-shirt with a soft cry of pain as the stitches stretched. The tears welling in his big, blue eyes made the kohl smudge a little more, so  he supposed it had worked for the best. Today was his very first day at Tropes Academy for Athletic or Artistic Boys Only, and he wanted to look his best, however little that might mean. His t-shirt had two long rows of safety pins down the front to show how alternative he was; they matched the ones on his beaten up black backpack that he packed with his sketchbook and an endearingly haphazard assortment of paintbrushes and pens before heading out into the small living area of his lonely little studio apartment.

 

Nathaniel lived alone – he was meant to be living with his Aunt Marjorie, but she was a very glamorous international jetsetter, so she left him live alone in the fully furnished studio apartment near his school while she was abroad. It could get very lonely sometimes, but whenever he got very sad he just cried in front of a mirror while softly practicing lines from drama scripts. He liked to imagine he was other people, so drama came very naturally to him. As for the painting, his mother had been a critically acclaimed French  _ artiste _ , so he supposed it was in his blood without needing to study very much. He’d always had a raw talent that he could finally express after getting his scholarship to Tropes.

 

Wandering into the kitchen with an even mix of melancholy and optimism, no sooner had he popped a piece of bread into the toaster and pressed down the lever than he saw the time on the clock. “Oh no! I’m going to be late!” he cried out, clapping a hand to his cheek. Flustered, he grabbed his backpack and popped the warm bread into his mouth and held it there while he unlatched his door and took the elevator down to the ground floor.

 

He found Dudley Durmat waiting patiently on the front steps, humming an awkward tune. They’d been best friends ever since they went to Glossover Middle School for Boys’ Backstories together – he was Nathaniel’s only friend, actually. All through middle school most people had never spoken to them and he didn’t have the foggiest idea why. He was always very generous, kind and polite to everyone and he was a talented and expressive student, but he kept finding little photographs of himself with dart holes in them all over the place. He had wondered if he had been upsetting people by being  _ too  _ nice, but when he tried to be bad, that just made it worse. In the end, only Dudley had stayed by him. Nathaniel guessed he was lucky to have such a devoted friend. 

 

“Hullo, Nathaniel,” Dudley smiled and stood. When he was standing on the bottom step, he saw eye-to-eye with his slightly-built friend. Dudley clocked in at just under six feet tall and he wore second-hand baggy shorts and a jersey – he was attending Tropes on a Team Fodder scholarship for the basketball team. “I like your shoes,” he grinned, pointing down at his own. He wore Chuck Taylors too, but there weren’t limited edition like the ones Nathaniel had – just the plain kind. They were red to match his hair.

 

“Thank you,” Nathaniel took the bread from his mouth to reply graciously, but he had a little furrow in his brow as he descended the steps with his bread in one hand. “But you shouldn’t have waited for me, Dudley. You’re going to be late. You should run on ahead. You know I can’t hurry because of my… condition,” he winced slightly, placing one hand gently over his heart.

 

“Never,” Dudley said loyally, offering a freckly hand.

 

“Well, if you’re sure…” Nathaniel gave up with a weak smile. After a moment more of hesitation, he took it and they set off for the front gates at a moderate pace, Nathaniel nibbling at bread all the way. 

 

“I promised I’d walk you to school. And it’s not very far – if coach complains at morning practice, I guess I’ll just run some laps.” Dudley explained.

 

Together they walked the two blocks together to the large stainless steel gateway with the school’s name spelled out in letters along the curve of the arch. The word  _ ONLY  _ didn’t quite fit on the sign, so it hung on its own plaque on two chain links just below the apex. It was a very modern institution with big glass buildings, and the hallways were lined with lockers that had been decorated here and there, presumably by the students here for artistic merit. Others had a sports sticker slapped on them, but little else. The distinction between the two varieties of students was clear.

 

“Where is everyone?” he remarked curiously, looking around the empty hallways.

 

“I think the bell has already rung,” Dudley shrugged, “Oh! Before I forget, here’s your locker.” He stopped, pointing to an undecorated locker as they approached it. “Here,” he handed his friend a little card with the combination written on it. “I’ve been keeping it safe for you.”

 

“Thank you, Dudley. You’re a good friend,” Nathaniel, hugging it to his chest. “We have English together, right? I’ll see you then?” 

 

“You sure will,” his friend said with a grin and a quirky little salute. “Are you sure you’ll be fine getting to class?”

 

Nathaniel nodded gingerly, “I think I know my way around,” he remarked, looking around with a furrowed brow. “They showed me where some rooms were during a tour before my… operation.”

 

“You just let me know if anyone gives you any trouble, okay?” Dudley said with an encouraging smile. “I’ve gotta run, or I’ll be all sweaty for English. See ya!”

 

“Bye, Dudley,” Nathaniel murmured, watching as his friend ran down the hall on lanky legs, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor. With a soft sigh he turned towards his locker and looked down at the combination card, then tucked it into the secret pocket he’d sewn for himself on the inside of his shirt. He opened up his locker, humming innocently to himself as he unpacked the supplies he wouldn’t need and gathered up the notebook and pencil case he’d likely need for his homeroom class. He was so distracted that he never heard a pair of svelte footsteps come up next to him in the hall.

 

_ BANG! _ A locker door slammed open next to him and Nathaniel screamed out, his poor heart feeling like it had burst. With a whimper he crumpled down onto his knees, clutching at his chest. He looked up to his right and found a much taller and more muscular boy sneering down at him with perfectly white teeth and cruel, smouldering eyes the colour of slate. With his stylishly coiffed hair and chiselled jawline, Nathaniel could have sworn he’d seen him in a magazine somewhere, only with an expression that was much less frightening.

 

“What are you crying about?” the boy said coarsely, pulling a crumpled textbook from his locker and then proceeding to cram in a gym bag that smelled faintly of chlorine.

 

“N-nothing…” Nathaniel stuttered softly, feeling an attractive pink blush rise in his cheeks as he looked away. He was very demure; his mother was part Japanese, so it was in his nature. “You just scared m-me, that’s all…”

 

The boy didn’t seem to like that. “You calling me a creep?!” he growled, hauling Nathaniel up by the front of his alternative t-shirt, snarling into his face.

 

“N-no!” the delicate boy gasped, feeling a little lightheaded as his nose filled with the scent of chlorine and Axe deodorant. “Nnno sir, I swear…” he whimpered, arching his back as he tried to pull away, his hands held up in surrender. With his shirt pulled up, his taut, exposed belly brushed against the other boy’s hip. 

 

He gave a silent gasp as hot fingers suddenly spread over his stomach, rubbing down from his navel and splayed over the twitching muscles. “Wuh-what are you doing?!” he gasped, his face flushing with worried fear as he bit his lip. It made the piercings stick out at an odd angle – one was a little star, and the other was a crescent moon. They clicked against his bottom teeth as the bigger boy drew closer.

 

“Smooth,” he murmured huskily in Nathaniel’s trembling ear, rubbing a small circle on his skin. “You’re such a little bitch.” With that, he roughly shoved the smaller boy away so he crashed into the lockers, stomping down the hall with a grunt. 

 

Nathaniel yelped as his shoulder clipped the door of his locker, shivering as he picked up his notebook and clutched it to his pounding chest as though it were a shield. He took a little longer than he would have liked to finally get to homeroom – he didn’t want to go there with wet eyes.

 

When he did finally get to the door he knocked on it gently and was met with a fairly genial call of “Oh? Come in!” 

 

He timidly opened the door, peeking out at the classroom full of twenty-odd students from behind an obsidian shroud of his fringe swept coyly over one eye. “H-hello? Is this mister Goodwill’s homeroom?”

 

“It sure is,” the aforementioned teacher said brightly, gesturing widely with outspread arms. He seemed like a very alternative and friendly teacher; he was wearing a nonthreatening patterned vest over his shirt and slacks, but his hair was a bubblegum pink. “You must be Nathaniel Willowisp! I’m so glad you’re well enough to come to school after your tragic spell in the hospital.”

 

There was an immediate, conspiratorial hush over the rest of the classroom, all of whom had already been staring at Nathaniel with wide eyes. He felt himself blush, and a few boys whispered to one another with cupped hands, never taking their eyes off of him. “Y-yes. Hello,” he said kindly, giving a quick little bow even though it made the blooming bruise on his shoulder stretch tight and ache.

 

“A bow! How formal and exotic. Have you spent some time in Japan, Nathaniel?” Mister Goodwill asked curiously, his twinkling eyes alight. 

 

“Um.  _ Hai _ ,” Nathaniel said gently. “My father was Japanese, and I lived there for a few years when I was very small. My mother travelled around a lot.” This received a few  _ oohs _ and  _ aahs _ from other boys in the class, especially the ones who were clearly there on artistic merit. Even some of the jock boys looked begrudgingly impressed with how cultured Nathaniel was. He felt a little more at ease then, but not for long.

 

“Now, let’s see here…” Mister Goodwill said slowly, looking between the student’s desks in front of him and an oversized seating plan spread out on his own desk. “Ah yes, you’re in the last seat left, next to Brent Butcherson at the back of the class. Brent, I hope you’ll make Nathaniel feel welcome! He’s a very special boy.”

 

Nathaniel looked towards this ‘Brent’ and saw the same slate-coloured eyes from earlier glaring back at him. He swallowed uncomfortably, mustering up the courage to walk towards his chair.

 

“Sure, mister Goodwill,” Brent said gratingly, never unpinning Nathaniel from his gaze as he drew closer, hands gripping the edge of his desk. “We’ll be  _ real close _ .”

 

Nathaniel twitched faintly with those words. He couldn’t help but think they sounded like a threat.


	2. Nathaniel's Prefect Kiss

Nathaniel didn’t feel very well as he drew closer to his seat next to Brent, and he didn’t think it was just his fluttering heart. He took a graceful turn when he was halfway there so he could slide into the single desk from the side that Brent was _not_ on. Something about being near him made his heart skip a beat, and the pink in his cheeks never really went away.

 

The blonde rested his chiselled chin on a sculpted fist and leaned closer. Wincing delicately, Nathaniel reached up with an alabaster hand and stroked his hair along the fuschia streak at the back of his head. Many people had told him it was a very unusual and creative place to have such a streak dyed into his hair, but Nathaniel was used to being different. He had dyed it himself shortly after he graduated from Glossover Middle School, where he and Dudley had also been best friends.

 

“Now, you’re supposed to use this time to complete homework for your core academic studies, but since Nathaniel doesn’t have any yet and it’s his first day, I might just turn a blind eye to anyone who wants to get to know him,” Mr Goodwill said genially, giving a cheeky grin over his shoulder before he went back to rendering a portrait of the three wise monkeys on the chalkboard, humming merrily to himself.

 

There was a distinctive _scrape_ as the blonde boy’s desk and chair suddenly slid a few inches closer to Nathaniel’s spot and he squeaked softly and slid his desk further away with three quick little scoots. He only stopped when his desk nudged a sturdy-looking two-by-four plank propped up against the desk to his left. Looking up at the desk’s occupant, he found a gaunt, jaundiced-looking boy with shadows under his eyes staring dead ahead in quite an eerie way.

 

As if he had sensed Nathaniel’s shimmering blue gaze upon him, his head swivelled rigidly in his direction and glared at him with murky green eyes. Nathaniel jumped in alarm as he saw the boy’s forehead was mostly taken up by a big blue bruise blooming under the skin.

 

“S-sorry!” he apologised with a soft splutter, ducking his head quickly in an awkward bow. The boy didn’t say anything; he just turned away with a shudder. As much as he had frozen up, Nathaniel was quite sure he didn’t want to scoot back in the opposite direction.

 

“Don’t worry, that’s just Weird Dan,” a boy with feline-like eyes said, crossing his arms across the back of his chair. “He walks around hitting himself with that plank every now and then, muttering that people don’t understand what he’s doing.”

 

“Oh, wow,” Nathaniel said with wide eyes, risking a peek back in the moody boy’s direction. “I’ve never met a real performance artist before, and I’ve travelled to a lot of different places.”

 

“We have a bit of everything here,” the boy said. Visibly artistic, he had purple hair and a rainbow tie-died on his off-the-shoulder shirt. “Though I’d say that everyone’s favourite is the drama department,” he added coyly.

 

Nathaniel opened his mouth to ask why when strong fingers suddenly snaked through his hair and tightened like a vice, yanking his head back. He managed to stifle a yelp, his eyes watering as he gripped the edges of his desk.

 

“Stop talking to the pizza face,” Brett growled menacingly, his breath hot in the smaller boy’s ear.

 

“W-what are you talki-” Nathaniel tried to ask why and the grip just tightened. “ _Ow!_ ”

 

“You pay attention when I’m around, _queer_ , you got that?” The blonde hissed, casting a wary eye at the teacher up at the front of the class.

 

Nathaniel tried to speak up, but his sensitive scalp was screaming and he was so breathless that the noise just didn’t come out. He looked over to the purple-haired boy instead, tears spilling from his pleading eyes.

 

The boy stared back at him with an odd, entranced expression. “Y-you’re so pretty when you cry,” he remarked with a gasp. “How are you doing that? The blue in your eyes looks like it’s _twinkling_ …”

 

_SMACK!_

 

The whole classroom jumped as Weird Dan smacked his head on desk without warning, and all heads snapped in his direction, including Mister Goodwill. The pink-haired man’s eyebrows managed to raise even higher when he saw one of the swim team stars manhandling the newest treasure to his class.

 

“Hey now, Brent Butcherson. You know that’s not how we treat our friends,” he said brightly, snapping a piece of chalk in his hand. “I’m gonna have to ask you to report to the school counsellor to talk about what you’ve done.”

 

Brent shot the man a glowering look with his slate eyes before he roughly released his prey with a click of his tongue. “Whatever, this class sucks anyway,” he said broodily, snatching up his backpack. He rose from his desk like a titan and slung it over his shoulder, stalking from the room with a deadly-looking swagger.

 

Nathaniel hastily rubbed the tears from his eyes, though he looked up just in time to catch one final death glare from the handsome bully before he slipped out of the classroom door and slammed it behind him.

 

“Such a spirited boy,” Mister Goodwill remarked serenely, before swivelling on his heel and going back to drawing the second wise monkey with its hands over its ears.

 

“Aw, it’s gone,” the purple-haired boy remarked in a disappointed tone, tilting his head to one side as he looked at Nathaniel’s eyes. “I guess it’s just a heat of the moment thing.”

 

“I- I don’t understand,” Nathaniel said. “W-why did he call you that?” _Pizza face_ , Brent had called him. Looking at him now, even with his slightly blurry vision, Nathaniel couldn’t see anything unusual about his face at all. There was a mole near his left eye, but other than that he had the same unremarkable skin that everyone in the room seemed to have.

 

The boy gave him a strange, strained smile. “You’re joking, right?” But the guarded expression faded away as he watched the genuine look of confusion on the boy’s pretty face. “…You really don’t see it?”

 

“No,” Nathaniel admittedly honestly, feeling a bit embarrassed. “What should I see?”

 

The boy gave an odd huff of laughter. “Nothing,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “You can call me Kip.”

 

Lost in his confusion, Nathaniel felt overjoyed at the fact that he might have made his first friend since Dudley had sat with him at lunch in middle school. “My name’s Nathaniel. It’s really nice to meet you, Kip!” he said sweetly, offering his hand. The boy looked at it for a moment, then reached out and shook it with a bemused smile.

 

“It’s nice to meet you too. Though I don’t know how nice your school life is going to be, since Brent Butcherson has his sights on you,” Kip said with a furtive glance back at the door.

 

“W-who is he, exactly?” Nathaniel asked softly, dabbing at the back of his aching head with his fingertips. “Everyone seems to know who he is, and I swear I’ve seen him before…”

 

“You probably saw him in a catalogue or on a billboard,” Kip said dryly. “He models.”

 

“He does? But he’s so young,” Nathaniel said innocently. “Child labour is very wrong. I had a very serious talk about it with a Buddhist monk when I was in the orient.”

 

“It’s legal as long as he doesn’t get naked,” the other boy shrugged, rocking on his chair. “Though he usually models swimsuits, and some of the pictures are pretty hot. It’s a shame he’s such a jerk.”

 

“Maybe,” Nathaniel said softly, trailing off with a furrow in his brow. He wasn’t sure anyone really _could_ be that mean. Wasn’t there something good in absolutely everyone? Nathaniel liked to think so.

 

To his left, Weird Dan gave a soft groan, his face still pressed against the desk. Nathaniel looked at him with a worried expression, because he was usually more concerned about other people’s feelings than his own. “Will he be alright?” he asked Kip, pressing his fingertips to his bottom lip as he looked over.

 

“He’ll be okay,” his new friend said with a reassuring nod. “On orientation day I saw him try to stage an auto-crucifixion on the big willow tree in the courtyard. The scars from the staple gun are already gone.”

 

“I only wish I could be so devoted to my art,” Nathaniel said wistfully, resting his chin on his hand. “It’s just been a bit… difficult, with things going on lately. At the hospital.” He gave a tragic sigh.

 

“It’s so brave that you’re even coming to school in your condition,” Kip said sincerely, rocking forward on two legs of his chair and placing a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m happy to listen. Or you could go see the counsellor… personally, I find him a little spooky.”

 

“Thank you,” Nathaniel said with a sad smile, placing his hand over Kip’s. “I’m glad I met you, Kip. We should sit together at lunch – I’d love you to meet my best friend Dudley.”

 

“Okay,” Kip said brightly as the bell conveniently rang. “I’ll see you there – I’ve got to run to jewellery-making, otherwise everyone else takes all the good beads.”

 

“Bye!” Nathaniel waved cheerily, watching him leave. Given his feeble state, he decided it would be best to wait a few moments longer at his desk while everyone else pushed their way out of the door, so he wouldn’t get in their way. When most of the class had departed he carefully gathered up his books and headed for the front door.

 

“Goodbye, Nathaniel. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Mister Goodwill said with a smile, looking over from the chalkboard.

 

“Thank you, Mister Goodwill,” Nathaniel replied kindly. “I like your drawing.”

 

The man beamed and turned back to his chalkboard masterpiece. Nathaniel gazed at it a moment longer as he walked out of the door, hoping he could draw with such realism someday. He walked straight into someone because he wasn’t paying attention.

 

“ _Oof!_ Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, clutching his books to his chest. He gasped when looked up with wide eyes. Rich, dark eyes looked down at him warmly from behind a few wisps of hair leading up to a full head of artfully tousled, espresso locks. Smiling white teeth seemed to pop in contrast to his mocha-coloured skin, and when his lips closed again Nathaniel couldn’t help but catch a whiff of vanilla-scented chapstick.

 

“You can walk into me any time,” the boy said with a voice like caramel, caressing Nathaniel’s chin with his thumb and forefinger. Distinctly smelling coffee and dark chocolate emanating from the taller boy’s cologne, Nathaniel’s knees buckled a little and he felt his cheeks return to full pinkness.

 

“I-“ he stuttered, “I, uhm… s-sorry.”

 

“Oh, but you have been crying, I can see it in your eyes,” the brunette pressed, his voice smooth and affected by a slightly Hispanic accent. He drew closer and gently guided Nathaniel aside from the doorway and up against the wall, leaning over him with one elbow. “I’ve never seen something so strangely beautiful,” he murmured curiously, running the bad of his thumb over Nathaniel’s high cheek bone.

 

Nathaniel wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Uhm. T-thank… you,” he said in a small voice, shrinking back against the wall and letting his fringe flip back over one eye in a shy manner. He felt like a fawn in the headlights; he really wasn’t used to this kind of attention and he didn’t know what to do.

 

“Such a delicate flower,” the unknown boy purred, hooking Nathaniel’s ebony fringe back behind the soft shell of his ear. “You must tell me your name.”

 

“It’s Nathaniel,” Nathaniel whimpered, feeling the heat of the other’s thigh press up against his hip. Unable to meet the stranger’s eyes, he looked at the lapel of the stylish boating blazer he was wearing and was surprised to see a silver Tropes crest badge there… didn’t they only give those to _prefects_?

 

“Nath _aaaa_ niel,” the other boy’s husky repetition was purred sexily into his ear and Nathaniel moaned weakly as the second bell rang, warning students to hurry to their next class. The other boy turned his head to look out at the hall with a sorrowful grimace, flipping his hair back from his forehead with a rugged little jerk of his head.

 

“It’s such a shame we must part ways so soon, my sweet,” he sighed, bringing Nathaniel back under that smouldering gaze. Before the smaller boy could reply, he capture his delicate chin in his strong hand and stole a brief kiss before pushing off the wall and departing, his fingers tracing the boy’s jawline in a parting gesture. “You’ll see me soon,” he promised mysteriously, disappearing down the hall with a confident stride powered by designer shoes.

 

Looking quite pale except for the furious blush in his cheeks, Nathaniel let his back slide down the wall, still hugging his books to his chest. He just needed a few minutes – his heart was pounding in his chest. Had he just had his first kiss?! He pressed his fingers to his lips with a squeak as the thought processed.

 

He didn’t even know his _name!_ And worse yet, now he was going to be late for English. He hoped Dudley wouldn’t be upset.


	3. Nathaniel Gets a 'B'

“What do you _mean_ , you met someone strange in the hallway?” Dudley asked in a hushed whisper, keeping a wary eye fixed on Ms. Fairwell’s back as she wrote on the board.

 

Nathaniel had slipped into English class with a very modest, blushing apology about getting lost on his first day. The strawberry-blonde woman who ran the class had nodded and politely asked him not to let it happen again, before pointing him to his desk. Dudley had saved him a spot right next to him, though after just two exchanges of whispering it quickly became apparent that they wouldn't be able to catch up on anything during English class.

 

“Mister Willowisp, mister Durmat,” Ms. Fairwell called them out promptly, her apricot chiffon skirt whirling as she turned around from the lesson structure she was writing. She fixed them both with clear blue eyes. “Please do not talk during my lesson unless you are called upon to ask a question.”

 

Nathaniel, already feeling guilty as sin for lying to her earlier, winced and shrank back into his chair. “S-sorry miss Fairwell! It won’t happen again.”

 

“Sorry miss,” Dudley parroted, nodding his head with a spooked expression.

 

“If everyone could please open their Fundamentals of Poetry textbooks to page three,” she carried on serenely, “We will be using the first stanza of Carl Sanburg’s _The People, Yes_ to identify examples of some of the writing techniques we will be learning to analyze and implement over the next few weeks. Phillip, please stand and begin reading...”

 

Forty-five minutes later, Nathaniel did have to admit that he now had a very thorough understanding of what he would be learning in Ms Fairwell’s English class over the course of the semester. He’d never before had so much knowledge worked into his brain in such a short amount of time... he almost felt violated.

 

“So... uh, stranger,” Dudley said slowly, similarly bewildered as they walked out of the classroom.

 

“Yeah,” Nathaniel said distantly, screwing his eyes shut and blinking a few times. The bell rang for lunch and it seemed to shake them both to their senses. “I don’t know who he was. I think he might have been a prefect.”

 

“But freshmen can’t _be_ prefects, and they’re hardly ever juniors, either. Nathaniel, what if he was _senior_?” his taller friend urged, ducking his head to look him in the eye.

 

“Oh gosh; he might be,” the raven-haired youth realised out loud, rubbing his cheek. “But if he was, why would he find me so interesting for no reason? I’m nothing special... And he’d be _older_ than me. Older than both of us.” Nathaniel felt an odd mix of thrill and foreboding at the thought.

 

“I don’t like the sound of this guy,” Dudley said moodily, pursing his lips. “You should stay away from him. I just bet he’s up to no good, like some kind of scam.”

 

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Nathaniel tried to reassure himself, but even he could hear the uncertain waver in his own meek voice. He sighed. “Look, let’s talk about it later, when we’re not at school. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria once I put my books away. I’d really like you to meet Kip – I met him in homeroom, so he’s definitely a freshman like us.”

 

“Well, okay...” his friend said mildly, taking off at a gangly lope down the hallway. Nathaniel watched him leave before heading towards his own locker. As he rounded the corner his delicate nose picked up the faint smell of paint and to his disdain, he saw Brent Butcherson in front of the locker next to his, holding a can of spray paint.

 

 _It’s okay_ , Nathaniel told himself, running his fingers down the colourful stripe at the back of his hair. _It’s his locker, he has every right to decorate it..._

 

Indeed, Brent had a stencil taped to his own locker that he’s just finished spraying with red paint. Nathaniel saw him picking at the edges of the masking tape as he drew closer, and it peeled away to reveal the Trope Academy crest, but with a stencil of the underwater missile that served as the swim team mascot in the centre. It grinned with sharp teeth and angry cartoon eyes as it burst out of the crest’s outline.

 

“Tropedos, bitch!” Brent claimed proudly, making a T-sign with his forearm atop the spray can. The pressure made it spray a little cloud of paint into the air, and Nathaniel startled and shrank back half a step.

 

“It looks uhm, really nice,” he said meekly, turning quickly to do his combination. Brent had spotted his flinch.

 

“What’s the matter, Nath _aaa_ niel?!” he said menacingly, looming over him and punching the locker door closed again just as the lock popped open. “Didn’t think an artsy bitch like you would be scared of a little paint.”

 

The alternative boy screwed his eyes shut with a wince, his heart beating quickly in his chest. “Y-you just startled me, that’s all,” he said quietly, looking away. Brent was quick to grab his chin and turn him back to face him.

 

“Well, you know what they say the best therapy is for phobias,” he said ominously, shaking the can. “Facing them.”

 

There were a few other students in the hall, but one look at Brent Butcherson with his rattlesnake spraypaint had them hurrying away with a hand innocently blinkering their eyes. The situation was clear: no one was going to help him, because they didn’t want Brent to turn on them instead.

 

Nathaniel tried to get away, but he could see the boy’s muscles bulging in his arm as he gripped his jaw and held him in place. The heady smell of chlorine, deodorant and his own fear filled his nostrils and squeezed his eyes shut and hoped for the best. The squeezing hiss of the spray can were like slow knife strokes across his chest. He counted three between the intimately close sounds of Brent’s breathing as he concentrated on his cruel work.

 

“Whoops,” Brent snickered, drawing back with the can and a devilish grin on his handsome face. “Gotchya shirt.”

 

Oh, _no_ . Nathaniel gasped and looked down at himself, and the shirt he’d spent hours meticulously pinning rows of safety pins onto to at exactly a quarter inch apart. Right across his chest at an angle, some parts on the cotton and some parts rippled where the paint hit the pins was a big, red ‘ **B** ’.

 

“Don’t even think about changing,” Brent said menacingly, yanking open his locker and tossing the can inside with a rattle. He slammed the door shut before it rolled out of the bottom, making Nathaniel’s touchy heart give a little jolt. The thin boy clutched at his chest, then pulled his hand away quickly with a little grunt as the paint marred his skin. Brent just clicked his tongue derisively. “If you don’t leave school in that shirt, you’ll be leaving shirt _less_ , queer.”

 

Nathaniel couldn’t change anyway, even if he wanted to (and he did!). He didn’t have another shirt in his locker, not even an art smock. He felt like he could cry – what was everyone going to say now his minimalist, quirky outfit was the victim of Brent’s graffiti habit? And worse, what if Brent really did catch him in a different shirt and showed his bare chest to the world by ripping it off? His bandage and ugly scar were just waiting there.

 

He had to keep it on.

 

“F-fine,” he replied, turning his face away in shame as he went back to his locker. He heard his persecutor give another huff of satisfied laughter before stomping off in his sneakers.

 

Nathaniel just stowed his books and unscrewed the lid on the little orange bottle he kept on the top shelf. He fought back tears welling in his big, blue eyes as he swallowed his heart medication and then replaced the bottle. He had to do it. He had to go walk into the cafeteria like that; Kip and Dudley were waiting.

 

He heard the whispers already, the attention making his cheeks burn an attractive pink. But he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the actual words being whispered.

 

“Hey, check out the new kid. His outfit is _different_.”

 

“I’ve never seen anything like that before...”

 

“Is that spraypaint-scented cologne?”

 

“That’s _so_ Nu-Grunge.”

 

“Hey! Hey, new kid,” a blonde with braided dreadlocks and a tartan smock caught his wrist as he passed their table. “What’s with your shirt? Where’d you _get_ it?”

 

“I, uh. I didn’t ‘get’ it,” Nathaniel stammered uncomfortably. Across the room at a table surrounded by sports jerseys and testosterone, Brent’s steely eyes flashed in his direction. That gaze pinned him there with a deadly promise that if he told, he’d be dead meat. Nathaniel could tell, he’d always been empathetic towards others – but he didn’t have to try too hard in this case because Brent’s expression positively _screamed_ it.

 

“Hey, the paint’s on his arm, too. Oh my god, did you _make_ it? Like, a custom piece?” another kid chimed in, leaning over the table without noticing that his ironic macaroni necklace was dipping into his hommus.

 

“Sure,” Nathaniel blurted suddenly, seizing what seemed to be his only way out of the situation. He felt terrible on the inside for lying, but this was a survival situation! “I made it!”

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” the other kid just repeated. “You should be a fashion major.”

 

“Tropes doesn’t have a fashion course,” the blonde boy squinted at his companion, clicking his tongue. “It’s clearly artistic. A wearable piece,” he carried on coolly, turning to Nathaniel. “What’s your manifesto?”

 

Nathaniel’s crystalline eyes widened, and it was like he snapped onto autopilot. “It’s an artistic statement that no one ever feels truly confident in this brutally judgmental society, so B is the highest grade we’ll ever give ourselves,” Nathaniel said without skipping a beat. Whoa, where had that come from? He wasn’t quite sure; he surprised even himself. But the other kids seemed to lap it up without question.

 

“Oh my god, that’s so true!” One gushed, “If I bring in a shirt, can you spray paint it for me?”

 

“That’s so perceptive,” someone else nodded.

 

“Will you do my pants?”

 

“I want a B shaved into my _hair_...”

 

“You should hang out with us tomorrow. Can’t you sit with us now?”

 

Embarrassed at all the attention, Nathaniel made some awkward, demure bowing nods and soft agreements before edging around them and skittering towards Kip’s otherwise empty table.

 

“Cool shirt,” Kip said slyly, his golden eyes crinkled up at the bottom. “Butch-boy’s got it in for you real bad, huh?”

 

Nathaniel made an odd whining noise and nodded his head mournfully. Sometimes he just wanted to disappear. At least Kip seemed to understand. “I don’t know why he’s doing this,” he fretted.

 

“Let me know if you ever get the answer to that,” Kip chuckled, taking the top off his jello dessert and digging in with a spoon. “So, where’s this Dudley guy, anyway? I would have thought I’d met him in orientation, or is he one of the quiet ones?”

 

“He’s right over there,” Nathaniel said brightly, spotting his best friend threading his way through the milling crowd of the cafeteria and giving an excited wave. Dudley saw him and gave him a smile with his big, awkward teeth. He couldn’t wave back, because he was negotiating a lunch tray in each hand, his gangly limbs holding them safely out of harm’s way.

 

“Who?” Kip asked skeptically, peering out at the room, “That blonde burnout who keeps making eyes at you?”

 

“No, the redhead,” The raven-locked boy replied sweetly, perking up in his seat.

 

“You do _not_ mean the jock with the two trays.”

 

“Yes. He always collects my lunch for me,” Nathaniel said happily. “He’s my best friend.” He hoped they’d still had carrot sticks and hommus by the time Dudley got to the front of the queue. He liked those.

 

“ _Nathaniel_ ,” Kip said urgently. “Nathaniel, he’s coming this way.”

 

“What’s gotten into you?” The alternative youth quirked his eyebrows, scooting over to make a space at their four-seater as Dudley drew closer. He nearly lost a vanilla pudding off the edge of one tray, but he managed to save it at the last moment without drawing too much attention to himself. He really was excellent Team Fodder material.

 

“I don’t think you _understand_...” Kip said awkwardly, pulling a face as Dudley arrived at their table and set down one of the trays.

 

“Hullo, Nathaniel,” he beamed.

 

“Hello Dudley. This is Kip,” Nathaniel answered.

 

Dudley slid into the space next to him. “Hullo, Kip.”

 

“Hi,” Kip said with a strained expression. The second Dudley’s arse hit the bench, it as like someone flicked a switch that had people’s eyes locked onto their table.

 

Taken aback, Nathaniel’s hand froze on his vanilla pudding cup as he was about to transfer it to Dudley’s tray as part of the ritual that was lunch. “Uhm,” he squeaked, looking around nervously. Even easygoing Dudley seemed perturbed.

 

“What gives,” he whispered loudly to his friend, before looking to Kip for guidance.

 

“Uh, you’re an _athlete_.” Kip pointed out, eyeing his basketball singlet as though it were obvious.

 

“Team fodder,” Dudley corrected defensively, as though that might make a difference.

 

“It doesn’t _matter_ , you’re still not artistic. You should be sitting over _there_ ,” Kip said stiffly, his golden eyes flicking over to a table underneath some school spirit streamers. A group of lanky basketballers stared back, a couple with upturned palms as if asking what was going on.

 

“Dudley and I always sit together,” Nathaniel said in a small voice, looking down at his hommus with a frown.

 

“Hey, I never said it was a good thing. It’s just the done thing. The sign says athletic _or_ artistic, not athletic _and_ artistic. People are going to freak out.”

 

“We always sit together,” Nathaniel repeated in a hollow voice, and he felt the concerned touch of his friend’s freckled hand upon his shoulder. “We always sit together we have since middle school, I don’t know why you’d say we can’t when we’re all meant to sit together...”

 

“L-look, don’t worry about it!” Dudley said genially, “I can move! We can still talk to each other outside of lunch...”

 

Strands of Nathaniel’s silky black hair fell forward into his eyes and he felt the weight of the world close in around him, covering him in a veil of heavy sorrow that pulled down on his heart.

 

“Uh, yeah. Hey, don’t let it getcha down. It’s just not middle school any more and that’s how things… are–?“ Kip backtracked, watching him nervously. Did it feel colder in the room all of the sudden?

 

“So I’m childish, is that it?” Nathaniel sniffed, his raw emotions slipping right out of his petal-like lips, painting gloomy spectres across the air. “I just wanted us all to be _happy_.”

 

“Th-there’s always been a strict recreational separation between... at Tropes...” Kip said with some difficulty, but his resolve was waning. Suddenly, the tragic waif leapt up from the table, upending his plastic bowl of carrot sticks and sprinting dramatically from the room, furiously wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

Nathaniel didn’t see anything, just a blur of watchful faces as he managed a brisk walk out into the hall, pushing through the door into the toilets. He locked himself into a stall and sank down to the floor with a shiver as the gravity of the situation washed over him. He couldn’t even make a proper running exit when something got ruined; what a loser he was! This sucked - he’d been so excited that te was going to have two great friends from both walks of life in the school and now there was a big, ugly wedge driven between them by some stupid rules and-

 

“Nathaniel?” a rapid knock sounded on his stall. “Nathaniel? Is that you in there?” Dudley called.

 

“Come on out, we’re sorry! You can sit with both of us! We’ll... we’ll ignore it.” Kip called too – he could see both of their shoes in the gap under the door.

 

“Go away!” he cried, burying his face back into the cradle of his knees. Tears were streaming down his porcelain cheeks, making the artfully torn denim of his skinny jeans darker in some places where it got wet.

 

“Nathaniel, please come out!” Dudley pleaded, knocking weakly on the door as though the sound of his friend’s tears was physically draining his strength.

 

“I’m sorry, too!” Kip wheedled, “I should have known someone like you would be above all that conformist stuff, come on, come out of the stall. We’ll all sit together like you wanted; we’ll call it Nu-Solidarity or something.”

 

“You guys don’t really want to be friends with each other,” Nathaniel accused through the door with a sniff. “You just want me to stop crying.”

 

“That’s not true!” Kip said desperately.

 

“Yes it is!” Dudley said indignantly, and the boys paused and exchanged a glance between them.

 

“Well, yes. It is true. But that’s not the point!” Kip shook his head, getting onto his knees on the mint-green tile. His feline eyes appeared suddenly in the gap under the door along with the rest of his head, and Dudley clambered to follow suit, his ruddy face appearing right next to them. Nathaniel eyed them warily, curled into a ball in the space between the toilet and the door.

 

“I’m not coming out,” he sulked, turning his head away.

 

“Aw, come on, Nathaniel,” Dudley coaxed. “You can have half my carrot sticks. I’ll even buy you an apple juice.”

 

“You just don’t understand how much it hurts,” Nathaniel whimpered. “No one realises how alone I am.”

 

Kip paused with a disbelieving expression. “Is he always like this?” he asked Dudley quizzically.

 

“...Sometimes he gets like this, yeah,” Dudley admitted reluctantly, dropping his voice to a hushed whisper. “He’s been really sensitive about being alone ever since his and his parents died, aunt left him to live alone, and his hamster was taken by a hawk before he went to the hospital. His heart just can’t take much more, y’know?”

 

“I can still hear you,” Nathaniel grumbled, his eyelids squeezing a final pair of stray tears from his cerulean orbs.

 

“Awful thin, isn’t he?” Kip noted aloud, lifting an eyebrow. The new topic caught Nathaniel off guard.

 

“Wha-”

 

“Grab his foot,” Kip ordered with sudden urgency, and Dudley startled and then complied. Not realising what they were doing until it was too late, Nathaniel gave a shout and tried to scramble back as each of his friends seized one ankle of his stylish sneakers.

 

“ _No_!” he cried, twisting in an attempt to get away, grabbing onto whatever he could to keep himself there.

 

“Pull harder!”

 

It was then that Nathaniel realised in a sudden moment of clarity that he was hugging the base of a toilet, pressed up against tiles that may or may not have been cleaned that day. “Gross!” he cringed, being an inherently clean person due to his Japanese heritage. It was that moment that the two boys needed .

 

With a grunt, they both pulled him out under the gap of the door. Nathaniel groaned and rolled over his a pout, pulling his shirt down over his emaciated stomach. As if his shirt could get any worse; creases could only be an improvement at this stage.

 

He gave another grunt as Kip clambered on top of him, looking down at him with his bright, golden eyes. “Quit being like that,” Kip said with a sly smile, seemingly satisfied that they could talk face to face again.

 

“You both promise we’ll sit together?” Nathaniel asked with a furrow in his brow.

 

The two exchanged glances and then chuckled.

 

“I think we’ll be okay,” Dudley said with an awkward grin. “It’s everyone else who’s going to be weird about it.”

 

“We were always outcasts, huh.” Nathaniel sighed, looking over at the mirrors.

 

“Outcasts, please! Try being ‘pizza face’ since puberty, then give me a call,” Kip said airily, tucking a grape-tinted lock behind his triple-pierced ear.

 

“Can I get up now?” Nathaniel wheedled, looking up at the mirrors. He was worried about how he looked – he needed to wash his face.

 

“Do you promise not to be all sad about it?” Kip asked with pursed lips, to which Dudley just awkwardly stuck his hands into his pockets, looking away with a casual whistle.

 

“I don’t know,” Nathaniel persisted, but it was hard to fight the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You might both have to prove you’re friends now.”

 

“Like how?” both boys asked curiously, and Kip finally let the smaller boy up off the bathroom floor.

 

“We should have a sleepover,” Nathaniel said sweetly, nipping over to the mirror and threading his fingers timidly through his hair before setting about washing his face. He took a little gasp as he came up for air, wiping his soft skin on some paper towel. “It’ll be fun, and we can really get to know each other.”

 

“I dunno...” Kip hesitated. “Isn’t that kind of _middle-school_ stu-“

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Dudley said loudly, clapping a freckled hand over the young jeweller’s mouth. “We would love to sleep over at your house tonight, Nathaniel. We will bring popcorn and movies.”

 

“Great, come over anytime after school,” Nathaniel said brightly, skipping out of the bathroom with a smile. He couldn’t wait!


	4. Nathaniel Meets his Nemesis

After school, Dudley said he had to run laps for being late to class and also (he would inform him later) for accidentally taking a shot in basketball practice instead of passing the ball to the studly point guard. Kip also needed to go home to get his stuff for the sleepover, this left Nathaniel to make his own way back to his Aunt Marjorie’s apartment. Knowing that he didn’t need to rush was a good feeling; he took his time going down the checkered-tiled hallways at a nice, gentle pace.

As he rounded the corner, he saw one familiar locker door left swinging open and felt a bit uneasy. Yet, unless Brent Butcherson was literally hiding _inside_ the locker (he seemed a bit too beefy for that) there was no sign of anyone else in the hall. Drawing closer, Nathaniel checked around the hall and then took a peek inside. The big duffel bag was gone, but most of the other contents seemed undisturbed. Nathaniel had a feeling that Brett was pretty confident no one else in the school would dare steal any of his things. The can of spray paint stood proud at the bottom of the locker, next to a bright blue… thong?!

Nathaniel panicked, blushing as he pushed the locked shut in a hurry, taking another furtive glance around the hall. No one was watching him, but he still felt embarrassed. What was Brett Butcherson doing with such a dirty thing in his locker? Kip had said he was a swimsuit model, sure, but to leave it out in the open like that, it was almost like he _wanted_ him to see it. Swallowing, Nathaniel turned to his own locker to get his bag, and that was when he saw the big red “B” spray-painted across it to match the mark on his shirt.

“I guess I won’t be decorating my locker, after all,” he murmured aloud, crestfallen. He had hoped he’d get away from the kind of hazing he got regularly at Glossover Middle School, but it seemed like there was no escape. Resigned to his unfortunate fate, Nathaniel put in his combination and collected his things to go home. It seemed Brett really was at after-school swim practice, or maybe he’d just gotten sick of waiting around to make good on the threat that Nathaniel had to wear his vandalised shirt home. The slender boy was able to make it all the way to the apartment complex without incident; at least until he got to the stairs.

“Oof!” he huffed as a kid in an oversized hoodie barged down past him in a big hurry. He knocked the delicate boy into the railings, and Nathaniel gripped the rail to support himself as he turned with a frown. “H-hey!”

The kid hadn’t even stopped to say sorry. He was already halfway down the street by the time Nathaniel had struggled to his feet. With a sigh, Nathaniel supposed he really should have checked who was coming down the stairs before he started up them. Carefully climbing to the top so as not to over-exert his heart, he fished his key out of his pocket and turned the lock.

The door wouldn’t open. Confused, Nathaniel turned the key the other way and tried again, and this time it opened just fine.

“Oh gosh,” he gasped, “I forgot to lock the door this morning?!” He couldn’t believe he’d been so irresponsible! Pushing the door open in distress, he burst into the apartment’s entry nook and found… nothing disturbed. Padding around the apartment, he found the TV and all the appliances, stuff like that were exactly where they were meant to be. There was even still twenty dollars laying on the kitchen counter - it looked like no one had even tried to get in the door while he was at school.

Nathaniel gave a deep sigh of relief and decided to make some chamomile tea. By the time his doorbell rang again, he’d calmed down a lot and made himself more comfortable. His hair still tousled by the shower, he was clad in a navy t-shirt printed with white stars and matching pyjama shorts, but in purple. They were actually from the girl’s section in the store, but Nathaniel felt he should be free to express himself with whichever pyjamas he liked.

Opening the door, he found that both Kip and Dudley had arrived together, clutching sleep bags to their chests. Dudley still in day clothes (the same outfit as this morning) but Kip was already sporting rainbow-striped flannel pyjama bottoms and a white crop top.

“Hey guys,” Nathaniel said brightly, stepping aside. “I ordered pizza, it should be here soon.”

“Sounds great,” Kip winked as he passed, still wearing his cat eye-liner.

“N-no anchovies, right?” Dudley gave a slightly uneasy grin as he came through the door, his big duffel bag in tow - he must have forgotten to drop off his gym gear when he picked up his sleeping bag. Classic Duds.

“No,” Nathaniel said sweetly, shutting the door behind them. “Just pepperoni. I know you don’t like fish that much, but I never minded seafood. I used to eat it every day in Japan.”

“Thanks, Nathaniel,” Dudley gave a brave smile as he struggled down the hall. The bag seemed really heavy. Nathaniel wondered if he should offer to help, but if Dudley couldn’t manage it, he really didn’t think he was strong enough to help.

Kip was already getting set up in the living room, rolling out his metallic gold sleeping bag on the plush rug in front of the TV. Nathaniel wasn’t very strong, but he had managed to move the antique coffee table out of the way to make a big space in front of the sofas. He’d already put out some drinks and chips, dips and carrot sticks on a big serving platter. Hospitality was very important in his heritage. Which was Japanese.

“So Nathaniel,” Dudley spoke up as he set his heavy bag down in the corner and stripped off his jersey, taking out an older jersey for a professional league team which he wore as pyjamas. “Who was this guy you met between classes?”

Nathaniel gave a little gasp as he pulled the ring on his can of lime and soda. With everything that had happened that afternoon, he’d almost forgotten. “O-oh! Yeah, I still don’t know his name,” he said uncertainly, feeling the heat rise in his telltale cheeks. “But he was um, pretty amazing.” he finished in a small voice.

“Well, what did he look like?” Kip asked casually. He’d been watching Dudley change, but his cool eyes took in Dudley’s freckled back with fleeting curiousity at best. He turned to his new friend as he reached out for his own soda from the six-pack next to the platter. “There’s a lot of kids at Tropes, but they’re all pretty unique - the artistic ones anyway - so we can probably figure it out.”

“Uhm… he was very tall, and dark.. and handsome,” Nathaniel pouted forgetfully as he drew his skinny knees up to his chest, leaning back into the sofa cushions. “And he smelled good…”

“That doesn’t help much,” Dudley sniffed as he joined them, grabbing some chips. Kip, on the other hand, gave a knowing laugh.

“ _Oh-ho-ho-ho_ ,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “I know who that is.”

Nathaniel’s delicate eyebrows flew up behind his tousled fringe. “Really?!” he exclaimed, “Who is it? Is he a senior?”

“Yeah, but that’s not all,” Kip said coyly, glancing at the pair of them from over the top of his soda can. “I don’t want to spoil his introduction when you see it, but it’s a blast. If he’s taken an interest in you, Nate, you’re a lucky guy. He’s so hot. _So_ hot.”

“He sounds fishy,” Dudley grumbled, “I don’t think I like the sound of a guy who hits on people between classes. You should stay away from him, Nathaniel.”

“I didn’t really have a choice in the matter,” Nathaniel winced defensively. “But… well, he _was_ … something, that’s for sure. Oh Kip, can’t you tell me more abou-” Nathaniel was interrupted by the doorbell. “Oh,” he gave a knee-jerk little bow before he excused himself from the sofa, grabbing the twenty from the kitchen counter. “It’s the pizza.”

“Hey, one jumbo pepperoni,” an unphased young man in a red polo shirt announced as Nathaniel opened the door. “That’ll be fourteen dollars.”

“Oh, yes, here,” Nathaniel said shyly, handing him the crumpled bill. “You can keep the change.” He hated splitting up change for tips. He accepted the pizza box with both hands, worried he’d drop it and ruin everyone’s dinner.

“So we just got a new store policy,” the guy carried on in a drawl as though he’d rather not be saying it. “Lot of bogus customer complaints about not getting what they ordered. Can you do me a favour and check it out and then sign this copy of the receipt if you’re cool with it?”

“Oh! Sure,” Nathaniel carefully maneuvered the oversized box onto a small dresser in the entry nook and lifted the lid. It looked tasty, but otherwise unremarkably like pepperoni pizza. “Uh _, hai_.” he said, a little awkwardly. “That’s what I ordered. Where do I sign?”

“Right here,” the man stoically presented a keyboard. Nathaniel didn’t really have a proper signature, so he just wrote out ‘Nathaniel Willowisp’ in loopy cursive.

“Thanks,” he smiled and handed the clipboard back.

“No problem, kid. Enjoy your pizza.” The man gave a curt nod before he tucked the delivery bag under his arm and left.

When Nathaniel took the pizza into the living room, he overheard his friends bickering quietly between themselves.

“His name is Nat _haniel_ ,” Dudley insisted under his breath. “Nate isn’t even in the name.”

“Yeah, so what?” Kip sniffed. “You think my real name is Kip? ‘Skipper’ is so… suburban.”

“Well ‘Kip’ is still in ‘Skipper’,” Dudley groused. “‘Nate’ just feels… you know, wrong.”

“Um,” Nathaniel interjected, trying not to get worked up like he had at lunch. “You can call me ‘Nate’, Kip, I don’t mind.” Smiling sweetly, he set the pizza down between them on purpose, taking a seat in the middle. “Just as long as you two stop fighting. You both promised."

“Fine, I guess,” Dudley rolled his eyes with a pout, but his mood was generally connected to his stomach. After a few bites of pizza he seemed to cheer up and they put on some cheesy, pseudo-scary movies off Netflix.

The rest of the sleepover seemed to go really well, all things considered; they ate food, they talked about school and who else was hot (Kip brought up Brent Butcherson, but Nathaniel just pretended not to hear) and Kip even let Nathaniel braid his hair. Unsurprisingly, Dudley was the first to nod off - he must have been exhausted from all that extra running. Kip put another movie on with the volume turned low, but Nathaniel didn’t remember how it ended, so he must have passed out too.

When he woke up early as usual, he used the time to sneak into the bathroom to change his chest dressing. Medically speaking, it was healing up pretty well; the stitches could come out soon. Physically, well… Nathaniel thought he might keep covering it up even after the scar was just a scar, without a scab. Today he dressed in a black undervest and a loose-knit off-the-shoulder sweater, just in case he needed the extra layers. Pulling on some shorts and long galaxy-print socks to go with his sneakers, he heard signs of life back in the living room.

“Hrrrm, morning, guys,” Kip grinned, his kinky hair only half tamed by the braid Nathaniel had put on one side last night. Getting up with a stretch, he scratched at his arm with a mild frown. “Huh, have you got a bug problem in here, Nathaniel? I think I got bitten last night.”

“I don’t think so,” Nathaniel said, concerned, “Aunt Marjorie hires someone to come and clean once a week because I can’t do much myself.” He walked closer to take a look. “Maybe it was a mosquito?”

“Not like them to take just one bite. And it’s more sore than itchy,” Kip frowned, looking up at his friend. “Hey, you have one too.”

Nathaniel blinked, looking down at the smooth expanse of his left thigh. Sure enough, there was a single red bump there that he hadn’t noticed before. “Oh gosh! I hope it wasn’t a spider,” he fretted, wondering if he should put a bandaid on it.

“Morning,” Dudley spoke up from his side of the living room, already reaching for the jersey he wore to school yesterday. “What time is it?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Nathaniel said politely, “I move my alarm forward a bit, so we shouldn’t be late today. I’m sorry about yesterday, by the way.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dudley yawned, casually getting changed.

“Did you wear that yesterday?” Kip asked point-blank, pursing his lips.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Dudley gave a thumbs-up over his shoulder. “Team Fodder kids don’t really have to keep up an image.”

“I was thinking more like hygiene reasons, but OK,” Kip quirked his eyebrows as he pulled his brand new outfit out of his backpack. Not rainbow this time; just a pair of multi-coloured, striped palazzo pants and a black cross-over crop top.

Nathaniel, for his part, got some bread in the toaster and brought back some blue bandaids for their bug bites. Not wanting to leave Dudley out, he gave him one across the freckled bridge of his nose because it seemed like a sporty thing to have.

For once all three of them seemed to be making good time, walking to school with a piece of buttered toast each.

“Hey,” Kip said with a frown as they reached the block that housed Tropes Academy. “What’s all that?”

The chain link fence that bordered both sides of the school had a bunch of papers fixed to it. Some had blown off or been torn off already by a little gaggle of students who were hanging around the arch, but they kinda spelled ‘LI’ on one side and ‘ES’ on the other.

“Is it an installation?” Nathaniel remarked curiously, thinking of Weird Dan and his even weirder antics.

“Must be,” Kip shrugged, “But I’m not really into the medium. Sculpture and jewelry is more my jam.”

“I wonder who did it,” Nathaniel wondered as reached the edge of the small crowd. Being so slight, he was able to squeeze to the front with a few shy apologies so he could have a read of one of the papers. They looked like photocopies of a writing book, some with dates stamped in the corner. He started reading one of them;

_Mr Squeaks is dead. I don’t even know how he opened the door to his cage, I just wanted him to get some sunshine on the balcony! It all happened so fast, and now he’s gone. It’s all my fault. I should have noticed the latch was loose, or been watching him, or something. I’m so stupid! Maybe if there is a hell, I’ll get picked apart by hawks as punishment._

Nathaniel’s heart felt cold at the same time his cheeks went tight and hot. His heart pounding painfully in his chest, he skipped through some pages, wondering just how much had been posted.

_Everyone starts school today, but I have to stay in the hospital for at least four more days. I wish I didn’t have to. They’re all going to make friends by the time I show up and I’ll be the odd one out just like in middle school. At least I’ll always have Dudley, but with so many different electives, will I even get to see him? I guess I’ll have to get used to being alone._

“ _K-Kip_ ,” he hissed over his shoulder, looking panicked. The colourful boy, lifting an eyebrow, pushed his way to the front of queue to join him, scanning the pages.

“What is it?”

“It’s my _journal_ ,” Nathaniel squeaked, trying to keep his voice down.

“Poor Squeaks,” Kip remarked dryly, though the appropriate confusion started to bloom on his face. “Wait, when did you get the chance to do all this? You were with us all morning.”

“I didn’t!” Nathaniel cried helplessly. “I didn’t even write in it last night because you guys were staying over. That’s my personal, private diary, Kip! I would never post it publicly like this. Someone took it and did this to me!”

“ _NATHANIEL WILLOWISP_ ,” someone bellowed from across the courtyard in a voice that was surprisingly bigger than their frame.

Turning towards the source of the call, Nathaniel saw a short kid he didn’t recognise, his pallid skin and spiky crop of brown hair was fairly unremarkable, but the big metal goggles on his face? Not so much. Clad in baggy cargo shorts and a bulky white hoodie, he pointed at the nonplussed part-Japanese boy and then made an unsettling claw-like gesture with his hand. “ _Swallow the shame_ ,” he hissed loudly, tipping his head back in manic glee.

“W-who are you?” Nathaniel stammered, “I don’t-”

“Silence!” the boy screeched with traces of a German accent. Stomping closer, he flipped his hoodie up and then it clicked in Nathaniel’s mind.

“Y-you!” he gasped, feeling violated. “You went into my _room_ ? Oh my god,” he felt faint. He kept his diary at the bottom of his _underwear_ drawer, and the idea of this gross thief pawing through all of his things… he couldn’t deal.

“Yes! Me! You might not remember,” the boy cackled. “But then again, it might be hard to keep track of what’s real and what isn’t when you’ve spun so many _lies_ , mightn’t it?!”

“Hey!” Dudley barked, “You can’t talk to him like that! Nathaniel’s one of the most honest guys I know!”

“I… I lied once,” Nathaniel admitted, chewing nervously on his thumb. “When I was around your house for dinner, Dudley. I didn’t like the food you made. I’m _sorry_ , Dudley, I just don’t like spicy food.”

“Aw, really? I would have made you a sandwich,” Dudley pouted, caught off-guard.

“Your petty manners do not concern me!” The mysterious boy snapped. A few kids passing by gave him a wide berth, a couple hung around to watch the rest of the performance. “I speak of that fraudulent filth plastered on the fence! Just how far have you gone to mask your rightful identity?!”

Nathaniel didn’t know what to say. He’d never even _seen_ this kid before the time he’d almost knocked him off the stairs. Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, he flushed and shook his head. “I don’t even know you!” he cried, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because you’re a liar!” the boy barked, pointing again. “You’re not artistic! You belong with the rest of us at Typecaster’s Technical Institute for Orphans and Mad Geniuses. This is all a ruse!”

 

“T-Typecaster’s?” Nathaniel stuttered. “Isn’t that the really small specialty school on the other side of town?” He had heard of it, sure, it had even been discussed with him when his mother had died, but he’d never even considered it! He wasn’t a genius, he just liked making things.

“Not really, the student body is a lot bigger than you’d think,” Kip commented snidely, baring his teeth. “But that’s not important right now. Not artistic?! Go to hell, you squat little dweeb.”

“Yeah, Nathaniel’s an _artiste_ , he’s not into all that science junk,” Dudley complained.

“Lies! As an orphan _wunderkind_ he’s the very definition of a Typecaster’s student. You tricked the school board into placing you here, Willowisp, and I’ll prove it!” The weird kid spat.

“I-I didn’t! I’m not… I’m not a _wunder..._ ” Nathaniel cried out helplessly, clutching Dudley’s hand for support. The redhead stepped in front of his friend as though he could shield him from his words, but judging by the uncertainty on his face it seemed he didn’t really know what to do.

“Don’t worry,” Kip clicked his tongue, hooking a lock of curly purple hair behind his gold-studded ear. “I’ll handle this.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he aimed his voice in the general vicinity of the benches under the big Sycamore tree where the alpha jocks liked to hang out. “ _He doesn’t even go here._ ”

“Hey, yeah!” one picked up the cue almost immediately, jumping up off the bench. “He’s not athletic _or_ artistic. Get outta here, nerd!”

“Don’t speak to me like that, you lumbering neanderthal,” the short boy snarled disparagingly. “I’ve engineered chemicals which could render you impotent for _weeks-arrgh!_ ” The kid was cut short with an outraged cry as a half-full can of Monster energy drink connected with his temple. Recoiling with his hands clapped around the bumps, he bared his teeth and looked for the culprit.

“Suck it, nerd!” an angry-looking brunette in baseball jersey jeered. “If you wanna cause trouble on our turf, you’re gonna have to go through the Isotropes!”

The strange kid opened his mouth to reply, but had to stop to dodge several more energy beverages as they were hurled at him with unsettling accuracy. The Isotropes had a good shot at the grand final this year. “Ingrates!” he spluttered, sugary green liquid running down his sleeve as he backed towards the school gates. “Maybe if you had a few more brain cells you could see what a fake Nathaniel Willowisp is instead of dunking balls all day!”

“Hey! What did you say?” A completely different, taller group stood up to join the defending ranks. Dudley sucked in some air through his teeth. “You got a problem with basketball, you little punk? Tropenadoes for life! Get ‘im, fellas!”

Realising his peril, the boy turned and ran for his life as the combined forces of the academy baseball and basketball teams charged after him with angry yells. “You too, kid! Hustle up!” the tallest guy pointed at Dudley with a stern look as he passed.

Dudley, obligated by his position on the team, gave Nathaniel the best apologetic grin he could in a split second before he turned heel and ran along with the crowd.

For a little guy, the nerd sure could move fast. As Nathaniel gingerly made his way into the school, a part of him still hoped the athletic kids wouldn’t catch up. As wrong as it had been to steal his diary, he didn’t deserve to be pummeled to death. Still… hopefully he wouldn’t come around here any more. The weird stuff he was saying had make his pretty little head hurt.

It was going to be a long day.


	5. Nathaniel the Costume Designer

Nathaniel was still very confused about all the commotion this morning, not to mention worried about what else the strange boy might do with his diary, but when he rounded the corner and saw Brett waiting outside his locker, the subject was pushed from his mind for the moment. The blond boy’s mouth widened into a shark-like grin as soon as he saw him, but he stayed leaning against the lockers with his arms folded across his broad chest.

 

Nathaniel wouldn’t have spoken to him if he could have gotten away with it, but Brent was blocking his locker. He had a feeling he has positioned himself there on purpose. “Excuse me,” he said quietly, frowning down at the floor. He wasn’t looking, but Nathaniel could _feel_ Brent grinning.

 

“It’s general gym class in second period,” the swimmer said without moving out of the way. “You better not have forgotten your uniform. I wanna see how you fill out those shorts.”

 

Nathaniel frowned, looking down the hall. If he lost much more time here, he’d be late for class, after all. “I don’t have gym,” he said evasively, speaking up a little louder.

 

“Bull shit,” Brent sneered, shifting his shoulder to lean against his own locker so he could stare at the small boy face-on. “No one gets out of general gym; not even little art queers.”

 

Now that it wasn’t blocked, Nathaniel hastily entered his own combination. “I don’t,” he insisted, shoving his bag inside and then pulling out his binder. “I have a medical exception.”

 

Brent scowled, narrowing his stormy eyes. “Is that what this junk is for?” Before Nathaniel realised what was going on, the boy had snatched his medication from the top shelf of his locker.

 

“H-hey! Don’t!” Nathaniel cried out, making a grab for the orange bottle in a panic. He didn’t stand a chance against Brent’s lightning reflexes and rippling biceps. He yanked the bottle up out of the smaller boy’s reach instantly with a mean grin on his face.

 

“What’s the matter, Nath _aaaa_ niel?” he teased, his voice almost a sing-song tone. “Can’t reach? Maybe you can climb up if you have the strength.”

 

“T-this isn’t a joke, Brent!” Nathaniel grimaced, feeling close to tears. In his desperation, he really did grip for purchase on the boy’s belt and try to use it to give himself a boost as he hopped up to make another grab for them, but it didn’t work. “I need those or I could end up in hospital again!”

 

“Oh really?” Brent smirked, still easily keeping the orange bottle away from the struggling boy. He tilted his heads up to inspect the label, but the medical mumbo-jumbo didn’t make much sense to him. “So what’s the dosage for these things?”

 

Nathaniel hesitated for a moment, shrinking away again as he let go of the boy’s belt. For once, Brent didn’t smell like chlorine; just deodorant and a faint scent of some natural musk. “...Two pills,” he admitted reluctantly, though he had no idea why Brent thought it was any of his business.

 

“Hm, okay.” Brent popped the cap and tipped two pills onto his palm before he pocketed the bottle. He held out the pills with a shit-eating grin. “Go ahead.”

 

“W-what?” Nathaniel started, confused, but he reasoned that the short term solution was better than nothing, so he reached out to take them. He let out a cry of pain as his hand was roughly slapped away.

 

“Not like that,” Brent groused huskily, stepping closer until the smaller boy had no choice but to back up against the lockers. His upturned palm was just in front of Nathaniel’s quivering lips, like a ranger feeding a horse sugar cubes.

 

Nathaniel swallowed hard and blushed. “I-I don’t usually take them until lunch,” he fretted, trying to turn away.

 

“I’m skipping out after general gym and swim practice to do a modeling shoot,” Brent glowered. “Unless you want to cut class and come looking for me, you better take them now.”

 

Nathaniel bit his lip as he thought about it. It was embarrassing, but the risk of going without his medication was too much, not to mention he was going to be late! He screwed his eyes shut and leant forward, eating the pills right out of Brent Butcherson’s hand.

 

The bigger boy made a satisfied sound as he cupped his palm over Nathaniel’s mouth, tipping his head back. “That’s right, now swallow,” he ordered quietly, enjoy the small tremors in the boy’s body as he fought against his gag reflex. After a few more tries, Nathaniel managed to get the medicine down. “Good boy.”

 

“ _Hahh_ ,” Nathaniel gasped for air as the hand came away, grimacing with the effort of swallowing pills without water. Flushing with resent, he started up at Brent but he didn’t know what to say.

 

“If you wanna keep taking your meds,” the blond swimmer said with a grin, “You’re gonna have to get them from me every day.”

 

“I’m going to be late!” The blue-eyed boy panicked, trying to wriggle away as the school bell rang, but Brent held him tight.

 

“You’re getting one of those gym uniforms,” he added firmly, “Whether you have a medical exception or not. Or _else_.”

 

“Fine!” Nathaniel snapped, blushing furiously as he managed to pull away once Brent loosened his grip. He took off down the hall, jogging as best he could without putting too much strain on his heart.

 

He managed to make it just in time.

 

Today Nathaniel’s first class was Drama. More specifically; Drama Production. He’d had one special elective left over after he’d chosen all of his drawing classes, so he’d picked a ‘fun’ minor one that was popular with a lot of students. If he was really serious about acting, he would have also enrolled for the major Drama Workshop & Theatrical elective, but the school really didn’t need Nathaniel stammering through lines on a stage. He was much too shy and fragile for public speaking! He’d die of embarrassment. No; acting wasn’t for him, but he was more than happy to help paint sets and bedazzle costumes or something for one of the performances the school put on each semester.

 

Stepping into the Tropes Academy auditorium, Nathaniel found the students gathered down in the ‘pit’ at the base of the tiered, semi-circular theatre seats. The group was fairly big but they all seemed to be milling around and there wasn’t an adult in sight, so it seemed like the class hadn’t really started yet. Wary of just how lucky he’d been, Nathaniel gripped the handrail tight as he descended the stairs so he didn’t get vertigo and fall.

 

“Hey, ‘Nafashion’,” someone greeted him with effortlessly casual familiarity as he joined the group, and the part-Japanese boy blinked and turned at peculiar nickname. The boy with the blond dreadlocks from yesterday smiled from where he sat with his booted feet propped up on the front row seats.

 

“Oh, h-hi,” he smiled back politely. “I never actually got your name, sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” The boy smiled, his dazzling teeth standing out against his tanned skin. Maybe he surfed? Would that make him a jock, or did it not count if the school didn’t offer a course for it?

 

That was all he said. Nathaniel nervously wondered if he was supposed to make up a nickname of his own (he didn’t think he’d be very good at that, shy as he was) but his mind was swiftly taken off of it when someone hit the lights and plunged the auditorium into darkness. Nathaniel jumped, but everyone else seemed fairly relaxed, so he gripped his upper arm and waited for something to happen.

 

With a dramatic flick of a switch, a lone spotlight shone centre stage on a stool occupied by a single red rose.

 

“ _Each day we ask ourselves; what is love?_ ”

 

A rich voice began to soliloquy over the speakers, and with the excellent surround sound in the school theatre, Nathaniel couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from.

 

“ _Gyrating hips?_ _  
_ _Open wounds mended by two tender souls over time?_ _  
_ _Many definitions, nay; thousands have been written in the archives of time._ _  
_ _A man could go insane wondering._ _  
_ _Never fear!_ _  
_ _I am here to tell you!_ _  
_ _A true embodiment of love is no mere definition, but a literal body._   
Can you feel the loveblood coursing through your veins for it is I, yes;”

 

Nathaniel gasped as a warm hard gripped his shoulder and whirled him around. He almost fell over, but the young man held him upright, pulling him close.

 

“Stavros… Enrique… _Xavier_ ,” the last of his names was a husky whisper just inches from his lips, and Nathaniel flushed as the prefect’s tanned fingers pressed another rose into his own delicate hand. The senior student was so close he could feel the brush of his breath against his cheek. He could even read the school motto on his silver prefect’s badge; _SUDO OR PROLOQUOR_.

 

“Uh- uhm. Hi,” he said meekly, acutely aware of the rest of the drama class in the room around them. His mind scrabbled for a subject that wouldn’t embarrass him. “That’s a very… unique name.”

 

Stavros smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “Yes,” he said with punctual flair as he drew himself back up to his full height as he turned to the rest of the class with a wide-arms gesture. “My parents Are Greek, Mexican and both Marvel fans. I am fortunate indeed to be blessed with such a rich heritage and sculpted thighs.” He grinned and winked over his shoulder at Nathaniel, whose cheeks would probably be flushed for the rest of the period, if not his life.

 

“Oh,” Nathaniel said meekly, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

 

“Yes. Anyway,” Stavros strutted into the centre of the crowded students with an elegant wave of his hand. “Production value!” he cried, making a grandiose gesture towards the setting on stage. “Even something as simple and understated as this setting can validate the entire audience experience. Roses themselves are great symbols of passio-”

 

“ _Uhm_ ,” a boy with a pinched nose and a plum-coloured beret spoke up, interrupting. “There are no roses in Nu Korea. The chemical warfare used in the uprising wiped out over 80% of the plant life. We’d be better off with a bushel of genetically modified corn.”

 

Nathaniel had a sinking feeling that he had missed out on a lot during the first week of term when he had still been in the hospital recovering from his surgery. “Uhm,” he whispered quietly himself, scooting back towards the blond dreadlocked boy. “What are they talking about?”

 

It seemed Stavros had heard him. “But of course!” he boomed gallantly, throwing his arms wide as he whirled around again, nearly taking out a distracted onlooker. “You missed orientation. We speak of none other than _Korlamity X,_ the original story we will bring to life by the end of this semester.”

 

“We choose scripts from the pool of works by last year’s seniors,” Chad cut across the prefect obnoxiously, pushing his horned glasses further up his nose. “This one was written by my older brother, so I know a lot about it. It’s a space-age militia drama set in a post-apocalyptic Korea AU.”

 

“That sounds… interesting,” Nathaniel said with a small smile, though the boys’ squabbling made him a little bit tense.

 

“It is indeed,” Stavros purred, stepping closer to the smaller boy as he placed his hands on his shoulders. “And it is a great relief that a delicate flower such as yourself should grace this class with your presence, for you would be a perfect fit for the role of Princess MiHi.”

 

“Uhm,” Nathaniel squeaked quietly with a nervous swallow. “I can’t-”

 

“ _Uhm_ ,” Chad said loudly. “No, he can’t.”

 

“Thank you for your input, _Chad_ ,” Stavros hissed at the bereted boy. “But if you haven’t noticed, he is very beautiful and _very_ oriental.”

 

“I don’t care how ‘oriental’ he is, he doesn’t take Workshop, he can’t have a stage role.” Chad snapped back, placing one hand on his hip and brandishing a rolled-up stack of papers with the other. “Plus as the director, I have a veto on all casting.”

 

Stavros fumed, inadvertently squeezing Nathaniel’s slim arms tighter as he stared down the other drama student. It started to hurt, and the delicate boy squirmed uncomfortably, hating the fuss he had caused.

 

“U-uhm,” he began gingerly. “Shouldn’t this be up to the teacher?”

 

“Ah, yes,” Stavros sniffed, finally letting the boy go as he dramatically wiped his own forehead with artistic fingertips. “Unfortunately it cannot be. The drama teacher has not been seen for many months. Legend has it that he still roams the halls at night, half-man and half-futuristic werewolf. As Prefect of Drama, I have taken it upon myself to guide the students in his stead - particularly the freshmen, who are the most fragile and the most… enchanting.”

 

“Oh,” Nathaniel lamented, feeling weak at the knees in the presence of the boy’s intoxicating cologne. He smelled like chocolate, but not sweet, just… rich. “Well… I didn’t really want a stage role, anyway…”

 

“He should make the costumes,” the blond boy with dreadlocks called out from his vantage point in the seats. “You can sew, right, Nafashion?”

 

“Oh!” Nathaniel raised his eyebrows and gave a slightly startled and very Japanese nod. “ _Hai_. Y-yes. I make my own clothes sometimes; sometimes I just alter ones I buy.”

 

“Excellent,” Stavros perked up, clapping his hands together. “Of course, such an important duty will involve a lot of extracurricular time spent backstage with the Drama department’s sewing machine. Are you able to undertake such labour, Nathaniel?”

 

“It’s okay,” Nathaniel lowered his eyelashes demurely. “I don’t mind spending time after school, it will give me something to do. I also have an extra period I can use to catch up if I need to.”

 

“Such devotion! Of course, you will not be alone. Who else here can sew?”

 

Nathaniel spent the rest of the lesson huddled backstage with a small group of other students who had also cast their lot in to help out with costumes and makeup. Much to his chagrin, they all seemed to be keen to follow his direction rather than let him fade into wallflower mode, so he had them draw up a table of all the roles in the script and tried to figure out if there were any scenes significant enough for a costume change. There was just one, most disturbingly, where Princess MiHi had her clothes disintegrated by a Moon Rabbit Rebel phaser and remained in her underwear for the rest of the act. Nathaniel blushed but promised he’d read through the script and have some rough concepts drawn up in time for the next Drama Production class.

 

When he left, he realised he’d still been holding the rose Stavros had presented to him at the beginning of the class. His heart feeling tight in his chest, he shoved it under his jumper to hide it while he was walking in the halls and once he got to his locker, he all but threw it inside his schoolbag. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the gesture; he quite liked flowers, but he could think of a certain someone who might react a bit violently if they saw him carrying around a red rose.

  
Thankfully, Brent Butcherson was not medically exempt from general gym; he probably hadn’t even left the gymnasium block all morning. Nathaniel could make it safely to the library to review the script of _Korlamity X_ in its entirety, and he’d tell the gang all about his at lunch.


	6. Nathaniel Doesn't do Gym

“Wow! Congratulations, Nathaniel,” Kip said emphatically over the top of his sandwich.

 

Nathaniel was feeling pretty happy, too. Dudley had gotten him a lunch tray with carrot sticks again, and this time he actually got to enjoy them. A lot of people in the Academy cafeteria were still giving them sketchy looks for sitting together as a mixed group, but at least Kip and Dudley had resigned themselves to the seating plan. “I know, right? It might sound dumb, but after doing some research at the library I’m actually the most excited to make the costumes for the foot soldiers. If the higher ranking main characters have exaggerated chests and shoulders, I figured I could emphasize the foot soldier’s legs with baggy  _ baji _ pants but like, really structured just above ankle cuffs to give them a tear-drop silhouette, it would look really cool if they do a marching transition with their shadows cast up on the backdro…”

 

Nathaniel trailed off as he saw the bemused look on Kip’s face. “What?”

 

“I  _ meant  _ about Stavros,” Kip explained with a knowing smile. “But I guess being lead costume designer is cool, too.”

 

“I still don’t know if I like the sound of this guy,” Dudley flushed indignantly. There was a drop of vanilla pudding on his pointed nose, and Nathaniel politely reached up and wiped it off for him with a napkin.

 

“He’s certainly very… forward,” Nathaniel commented with a private sort of smile. He had kept the detail about the rose to himself. “But I don’t really know how serious he is. He’s pretty, um, flamboyant. Maybe he just does this kind of stuff for character practice. I don’t see why someone like him would really be interested in someone like me.” He added quietly, swirling his carrot stick in a little dish of hummus.

 

“Try because you’re super cute,” Kip said dismissively, then he raised his manicured eyebrows as though he just remembered something. “Actually, speaking of  _ real  _ weirdos who are interested in you,” he said as he took out his smartphone, leaning in close as his voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper. “I think I found out who that freak from this morning was.”

 

“Oh!” Nathaniel gasped. Between the drama with Brent and his medication and the actual Drama class, he’d almost forgotten the chaos from this morning. “I almost forgot! Dudley, did anyone from the basketball or baseball teams catch him?”

 

“Nah,” Dudley groused with a scowl, practically stabbing his spoon into his pudding cup. “We were gaining on him, but one he rounded the corner he hopped onto this weird, souped-up Segway thing and started going  _ really  _ fast. Not even the guy who holds the Isotropes team record for home runs could catch him. But he did drop a book!” He turned to his old friend with a vaguely uneasy, lopsided grin. “I  _ think  _ it might be your journal, Nathaniel, but it’s uh, pretty beat up. I’m not gonna sugar coat it; I don’t think there’s much left of it to save, but I’ll give it to you after school if you want.”

 

“I do,” Nathaniel pressed his lips together and gave a determined little nod. “The stuff in there is really private. I can’t believe he even knew I kept one, let alone where to find it in my room.” 

 

“Yeah, it might have something to do with the fact that he’s a freaky genius?” Kip interjected and turned his phone around so the others could see the news article he’d brought up in its web browser. Right at the top of the article, the same short boy with goggles stood outside of a building made mostly out of gleaming, mirrored windows. “Listen to this,” he carried on, turning his phone back around so he could read aloud; 

 

“After just the first first week of term, the freshmen of Typecaster’s Technical Institute for Orphans and Mad Geniuses are already proving the school’s namesake with the release of another invention onto the medical market. Patented by Edwin von Kurzstapel (pictured above) the product is a new form of chemical vasectomy administered by a single oral dose. The pill is expected to make waves in the birth control industry, however this is not the only patent listed under Kurzstapel’s name. Just last year he filed for a self-contained, symbiotic amoeboid ecosystem sustained by sodium chloride and sunlight, but the practical applications of such a material are as yet unclear. When asked for comment, the spirited boy replied that he was ‘too busy with matters of pride and intellect to be concerned with [The Convenient Scoop]’s inane journalism’.”

 

“Ugh, I only understood like, three words of that second invention,” Dudley complained. “He sounds like a real piece of work though.”

 

“Edwin von… Kurzstapel,” Nathaniel repeated curiously, furrowing his brow. “I don’t recognise that name at all. Why is he calling me a liar when we’ve never even met? It’s so confusing.”

 

“He sounds like a nutjob if you ask me,” Kip drawled, waving a hand so hard that all of his bracelets jangled. “I mean, he’s a freshman and he’s messing around with stuff like a chemical vasectomy? The guy has to be a creep.”

 

“I think I might throw out any opened food when I get home, too,” Nathaniel murmured uneasily. He had already been planning on doing laundry for the entire contents of his underwear drawer that night.

 

“You’re getting the locks changed, right?” Dudley pressed protectively, puffing out his slender chest as best he could.

 

“I’ll call someone after school,” the smaller boy managing a reassuring smile. 

 

“Maybe we should have another sleepover,” the gangly redhead suggested aloud, pouting suspiciously. “Just in case. I can bring some groceries over for you too, Nathaniel.”

 

“Mm, uh-uh, no can do, sorry,” Kip apologised, throwing up his palms in a small gesture. “I’ve got a date with me, myself and eBay. Turns out there’s a political statement piece in the Fine Jewellery syllabus, and I need to win an auction for a genuine set of slave shackles. If I can melt it down and use it for my jewellery, alloyed with a tiny amount of silver, I think I can get extra marks for reclaiming trauma from my heritage and reshaping it into something that’s like, not terrible.” 

 

“Wow, that’s a really interesting idea, Kip,” Nathaniel said keenly. “Can I see it once you’re done?”

 

“Sure,” Kip winked. “I’ll probably have a ton of metal left over, maybe I can use it to make my own badge once I eventually become Prefect of Artisanry.”

 

“I think you could do it,” Nathaniel nodded. He had never really considering aiming for a prefect role after their freshman year. He was quite good at figure drawing, but he didn’t think his skills were exactly broad enough to make Prefect of Fine Art. 

 

“Oh I know I will,” Kip said confidently, dabbing his lips with a napkin as he stood up and grabbed his tray. “I just have to get past those history nerds and neo-nazis on eBay, first. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? Have fun at your sleepover.”

 

“Okay, bye Kip,” Nathaniel beamed and gave a little wave. Beside him, Dudley nodded and raised his hand in a wave too, albeit with a bit less passion.

 

“So what kind of groceries should I get?” Dudley asked. “Apple juice? Carrots?”

 

“I don’t think he could have slipped a pill inside a carrot, Dudley,” Nathaniel pointed out, not without fondness. “But if you could get some juice and hummus and a bag of rice, I’d really appreciate it. I’m not throwing out any rice, but getting the big value bag up the stairs is really strenuous for me.”

 

“Of course,” Dudley nodded with fierce loyalty in his eyes. “I’ll get it after school then come over. I might be a little late; I had to promise the point guard I’d pump up all the basketballs so he’d hand over your journal.”

 

“Oh, really?” Nathaniel bit his lip. “I’m sorry Dudley, you shouldn’t have to do that.”

 

“Hey, it could be worse, right?” the redhead smiled. “I could have to run more laps.”

 

“Hmm, well, make sure you keep the receipts for the groceries. I can pay you back through my Aunt Marjorie’s account. I’m allowed to use it for food.” Nathaniel bowed his head gently as he began to gather up his tray. The bell would ring soon, and he wanted to get a head start to his afternoon academic classes. Before he could pick up his tray, however, Dudley picked it up with an awkward but loveable grin. 

 

“Take it easy, Nathaniel,” he said, attempting a wink but it wasn’t a very good one. “I’ll see you tonight.”

 

“Okay, bye bye, Dudley.”

 

In comparison to the hectic morning, the afternoon was downright boring by comparison. Nathaniel was extremely grateful for the few hours he could spend doing calculus and learning about national history like a normal, healthy teenager without heart problems or love life drama. Speaking of which, he’d been nervous that he’d start having chest pains or something in his final lesson because he’d been forced to take his pills so early in the day, but everything seemed… okay. 

 

Maybe it was because things had been going well for him for once, that when he was passing through the Academy gates to go home a muscular hand shot out of nowhere and grabbed his wrist. Nathaniel screamed, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned in horror and tried to pull away.

 

“You’re such a bitch,” Brent sneered, keeping ahold of the thin boy’s wrist easily.

 

“B-Brent?!” Nathaniel spluttered, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down though he could still feel his heart racing. “What are you doing here?” He’d said he’d had a modeling shoot that afternoon. Now that he got a closer look at the blond swimmer, he saw that his lips looked even shapelier than usual; in fact every angle of his face seemed flawlessly contoured, and his hair was expertly coiffed. Nathaniel blushed as he realised the boy must still be in his hair and makeup from the shoot, but he hadn’t expected him to look so… good… in person. Wasn’t most of it supposed to be Photoshop?

 

Pretty or not, the menace in the blond’s slate eyes was still the same. “Did you buy the uniform?” he asked without explaining himself.

 

“Huh?” Nathaniel blinked cluelessly. A lot had happened that morning, and it took him a few moments before he realised what the bigger boy was talking about. “O-oh, that. No, not yet,” he admitted evasively. “I’ve been bus-  _ ow _ !”

 

“Useless,” Brent growled as he gripped the boy’s hand and basically dragged him back towards the school. 

 

“Brent! Stop, you’re going to leave a bruise!” Nathaniel cried as he struggled to regain his footing.

 

“Good,” the boy shot back gruffly as he switched out holding his hand for a fistful of the back of Nathaniel’s sweater as he marched him up the stairs and pushed him through the school doors. As they took a sharp detour down a side corridor, Nathaniel finally figured out where they were going. The Tropes Academy uniform shop was open for an hour after school on most days of the week. Kids could count staffing it towards their annual community service quota, and it was a pretty easy gig.

 

The shop was basically a repurposed classroom, but most of the racks were dominated by uniforms for the school’s myriad of athletics teams. Ignoring the bored-looking kid reading a comic book at the cash register, Brent pulled the black-haired waif over to the small corner that was home to the plainer uniforms for general gym. 

 

“I  _ told  _ you to get a gym uniform.” Brent said firmly. 

 

“I didn’t know you meant today,” Nathaniel pouted defensively. “I still don’t even know why you want me to get the stupid thing, it’s not like I can-”

 

He trailed off with a strangled, uncomfortable sound as the other boy reached down the back of the top he was wearing and pulled out the clothes tag for inspection. “Extra small,” he commented aloud with a huff of laughter. “Of course.”

 

Nathaniel blushed indignantly, about to open his mouth to say something when those same warm hands reached down the  _ back of his shorts _ . No. No, there was no way he would-

 

“Same again,” Brent gave a mean grin. “Lucky for you they stock the wimp sizes for general gym. Go on, pick it out.”

 

If Nathaniel had been blushing before, he was positively glowing with embarrassment after that little invasion of his personal space. Scooting forward a few steps with hunched shoulders, he rifled through the shirts to find one stamped with ‘XS’. There was nothing inherently wrong with the design; the white shirts were edged with navy blue and stamped with the Trope crest on the front in the same colour. He just really didn’t need one until he was off his medication, and that could be months away, so what was Brent’s big idea?

 

When he got to the shelf of shorts, he kind of understood. They were uh, short, to say the least; navy blue with a small, white school crest stamped in the corner just below the waistband and white stripes down the sides, they were made out of that stretchy spandex stuff and reminded Nathaniel of women’s volleyball shorts. He was suddenly very glad he had a medical exemption from general gym, although it seemed like it didn’t matter now. He snatched a pair of shorts in his size off the shelf and hugged them to his chest as he ducked past the swimmer and went over to the cash register. 

 

“Do you want to pay cash or add it to the fees on your school account?” the shop attendant asked, snapping his gum after he spoke.

 

“Uhm, fees, please.” Nathaniel swallowed.

 

“Cool, I need to scan your student ID.”

 

Nathaniel fished his student ID card out of the slender, black leather wallet in his pocket and handed it over. As the volunteer student rang up the transaction, Nathaniel could feel Brent looming smugly behind his shoulder.

 

“Was that so hard?” Brent asked snidely as they walked out of the shop.

 

Nathaniel, hugging his plastic-wrapped purchases to his chest, frowned. “Why did you make me buy this stupid uniform, anyway? It’s not like I can use it.”

 

“Because you’re going to wear it for me,” Brent practically purred, squeeze the smaller boy’s shoulder. “Tomorrow, in fact.” He leaned in closer. “Or else.”

 

“I-I can’t wear this all day!” Nathaniel spluttered, feeling the colour rise in his cheeks. “People will think I’m weird!”

 

“You’ll wear it if you want Friday’s dose of whatever those pills are,” Brent said with a shit-eating grin, still looking infuriatingly attractive thanks to some unknown stylist. “Everyone’s saying you’re some sort of super-fashion queer, so you’ll probably pull it off.”

 

Nathaniel opened his mouth, but a retort didn’t come. Cheekings burning, he pouted and turned away to stomp off. “Fine! You’re such a jerk.”

 

His breath caught in his throat as a pair of thick arms wrapped around him from behind, hoisting him up slightly so he had to stand on his tip-toes. “What did you say?” Brent’s voice, suddenly a lot lower and more menacing than usual, growled directly into his ear.

 

“N-nothing!” The boy squeaked with desperate false piety, literally backpedalling with his feet. “I’m sorry!”

 

“You’re goddamn right you’re sorry,” the blond growled. Nathaniel winced and bit his lip as his hot breath tickled his ear. “Now, what did you  _ mean  _ to say?”

 

“Uh-uhm, I’ll wear the uniform tomorrow?” Nathaniel guessed weakly.

 

“Hmm, close,” Brent purred, “But who will you be wearing it for?”

 

Nathaniel’s heart skipped a beat. “Y-you?”

 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Brent’s nod was almost sagely. “Altogether now.”

 

Saying it out loud so exhaustively like this was weird! Nathaniel pulled a face, his whole body feeling hot as his lips seemed to try sealing shut to avoid the task assigned to him. “I’ll…” he began in a tiny voice, yelping as the stronger boy straightened up and lifted him off the ground completely. Treading air, Nathaniel buried his burning face in his hands, though he left his mouth uncovered. “I-I’ll wear the uniform tomorrow for you, Brent.” he gasped out in a rush. “O-okay?!”

 

“Much better.” The way Brent set him back down on the ground was downright gentle compared to the way he’d grabbed him. He seemed pretty satisfied - it was written all over his face as he reached out and pinched one of the boy’s pink cheeks, enjoying the sight of his entrancing, watery blue eyes.

 

Nathaniel felt weird. Trembling slightly where he stood, he went quiet and looked away at the ground in the distance. Thankfully it was after school so no one was around to witness his humiliation, but it also meant Brent wouldn’t get in trouble, either.

 

“See you tomorrow, Nathaniel,” the jock smirked as he glided past him. The smirk dropped from his lips as he briefly turned to walk backwards while giving his parting words. “Don’t forget what to wear,” he said seriously, before he spun back around and then turned the corner out of sight.

 

Nathaniel stood there alone in the hall for a few more minutes to regain his composure before leaving. He felt a little bit like he might cry, but there was a strange sense of adrenalin coursing through his veins that stopped that from happening. There was no way he  _ couldn’t  _ wear the gym uniform after that scary display. He’d make it work somehow; he didn’t have a choice.

 

For now, he just had to get home and do his chores before Dudley turned up with the groceries. He could really use an apple juice.


	7. Nathaniel the Model

By the time Dudley showed up on Nathaniel’s doorstep with freckly arms full of grocery bags, his small friend had already laundered the entire contents of his underwear drawer and was sipping on his second apple juice. Padding about the apartment in white socks and his pyjamas, Nathaniel hummed a quiet tune as he unpacked the groceries while Dudley rummaged around in his giant duffel bag. The redhead seemed hesitant about something.

 

“Hey, so, listen,” he said slowly, “Don’t freak out, but this what’s left of your diary.”

 

Dudley held out a hardcover journal with a pixelated black-and-white static pattern on the cover. It didn’t look damaged at all… until the gangly boy opened it up. Nathaniel immediately recognised the purple star stickers covering up the box where you were supposed to write your name on the inside cover, but the first page was wrong. It started out with his trip to the hospital, but that was just a few weeks ago, and he’d had this journal all year! A huge chunk of the front pages were missing. Not ripped out, but extracted; the cut was so clean that the thief must have used a scalpel to remove them. 

 

“B-but… I didn’t even get to read it yet,” the Japanese boy whimpered, feeling a pang of loss in his chest. He always set some time aside around New Year’s Eve to read through his journal entries for the year; it was like a tradition he’d made up for himself. Some of those journal entries were from months and months ago - he didn’t have a hope of remembering them off by heart!

 

“I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find the pages. I don’t think he had them with him.” Dudley gave his best effort at a commiserating smile.

 

“So he still has them,” Nathaniel pulled a sour face as he turned and all but kicked the bag of carrots into the bottom of the pantry. “He… ugh, I don’t know, Dudley!” he cried out helplessly, his cerulean eyes tearing up in his own kitchen. “I don’t know why he took it in the first place, and now he’s holding my private diary hostage! It feels like someone stole my memories!”

 

“H-hey, come on Nathaniel, it’s not like that, don’t cry,” the taller boy tried to console him, holding out his arms for a hug. Nathaniel gave a fierce little shake of his head and stumbled out of the kitchen, shutting himself up in his room. He didn’t open up until his friend knocked on the door with a plate of carrot sticks and hummus. 

 

After that, the boys talked about school and played some  _ Mario Party _ in the living room, but Nathaniel still seemed somewhat put-off throughout the entire evening, no matter how much Dudley tried to take his mind off things. He chalked it up to the trauma of having his apartment broken into by that weird little German nerd. Eventually they fell asleep while watching  _ The Grudge _ with just subtitles and no sound because “it’s less scary that way.”

 

In the morning, the small boy burst into the living room upon the first chirrup of his alarm. As Dudley rubbed the sleep out of his eyes from where he lay sprawled on the couch, he was disturbed to see his friend already fully dressed. “N-Nathaniel?”

 

“Do you think this works?” Nathaniel asked worriedly, doing a little turn from side to side. “It’s kind of anachronistic, right? In a good way?”

 

“W-wow,” Dudley raised his eyebrows as he stared. He recognised the Tropes Academy general gym uniform (he had forgotten how pale his friend’s thighs were) but the part-Japanese boy had paired it with a black sweater that had a white collar and sleeves kind of like varsity jacket but the loose flare fit finished up a few inches longer than the bottom of his shorts. There were white felt stars on the elbows. He also wore a black velvet choker and loose-tongued maroon high-top sneakers.

 

“I was going to wear some plastic nerd glasses with it, but I couldn’t find them anywhere, plus that feels kind of over, you know?” The boy fussed, pulling a few carefully disheveled strands loose from his pseudo-topknot. “But it’s still cute, right?”

 

“Y-yeah, it looks really good,” Dudley turned away with a slight blush. “But how long were you up putting all that together?”

 

“Maybe an hour,” the boy admitted sheepishly, poking his index fingers together. “I had to iron on the elbow patches.” 

 

“Nath _ aaan _ iel,” the redhead nagged. “You’re supposed to get a good night’s sleep.”

 

“I’m sorry Dudley, I tried!” his best friend pouted. “I just… got really worried about it.”

 

“Why? It’s only school. I can get why you don’t just wear the same thing every day like me, but it’s not like it’s picture day or anything. And what’s with the gym uniform? You’re not allowed to exert yourself because of your heart.”

 

“I just… wanted a chance to wear it,” the boy squeaked vaguely as he made his way over to the toaster to make them breakfast. “Do you want some juice?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject.

 

Dudley gave a heavy sigh as he began to get dressed. “Yeah, sure…”

 

In homeroom, Kip was positively beamed from where he sat backwards on his chair so he could talk to his friend. “Oh  _ wow _ , that is seriously cute, Nathaniel. Excellent contrast between the jacket and those booty shorts.” 

 

“Th-thanks,” Nathaniel gave a sweet but tight-lipped smile. It was hard not to be nervous when Brent Butcherson was looming in the desk beside him with a creepy leer on his face. “Did you win your auction?”

 

“I sure did. Some weirdo tried to outbid me in the last ten seconds, but I got it,” Kip winked. “Now I just have to figure out how I can get it melted down.”

 

“ _ Mister _ Skipper,” Mr. Goodwill’s clear chime of a voice rang across the classroom. “I know I run a lenient class, but don’t you have a manifesto to draft? The head of Artisanry tells me he expects a profound statement piece from you.”

 

Kip flashed Nathaniel the whites of his eyes in an exasperated look, unseen by the pink-haired teacher who stood smiling at the front of the room, his hands white-knuckled around his whiteboard marker. “Sorry, sir,” he drawled, turning around to sit properly in his chair and return to his homework.

 

Twitching, Nathaniel straightened up in his seat and decided to look over at what Weird Dan was doing. He hadn’t seen the sickly-looking boy around in the halls for a while, but he’d heard that he was making waves in both Drama Workshop & Theatrical and Performance Arts. They said he never broke character; not ever. Right now the boy was busy with a thick Sharpie marker, scribbling large circles onto his palms. Muttering under his breath, he lifted the pen and started filling in a smaller circle in the centre, kind of like bullseyes. Nathaniel didn’t want to police his creativity, but he did hope Weird Dan wasn’t planning another attempt at auto-crucifixion. 

 

_ Scraaape _ .

 

Nathaniel gave a silent gasp and quickly made sure the folds of his sweater concealed as much of his exposed thighs as possible. Behind him, Brent Butcherson, his chair now questionably closer to Nathaniel’s desk, reached out and pulled the sweater open without a word, tucking it between the boy’s back and the chair and leaving him completely exposed on one side. Nathaniel froze and gripped the edges of his desk, wincing, but the blond boy didn’t say anything. He seemed to just be taking a long, hard look. Nathaniel flushed and pressed his thighs together. He was much too shy for this!

 

Just before the part-Japanese boy thought his shame could stretch no further, he heard the faint shutter sound effect of a camera. Jumping in his seat, he whipped his head around to find Brent smirking at him over the top of his iPhone. 

 

” _ Did you just take a picture?! _ ” Nathaniel mouthed at the muscular blond, blushing furiously. 

 

Brent gave an effortless grin. Without breaking eye contact, he hit the camera button again and took another. Without thinking, the smaller boy’s jaw dropped and he tried to snatch the phone out of swimmer’s hand. That was a mistake; the athlete caught his wrist easily and yanked him forward. Nathaniel practically fell out of his chair!

 

“I’m getting better pictures than that,” Brent smirked into the boy’s ear. “Meet me by the west entrance to the pool block before lunch if you want your pills.”

 

Nathaniel’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the warmth of Brent’s breath in his ear. Flustered, he straightened up sharply with better posture than he’d ever had before, trying to wriggle away without catching Mr. Goodwill’s attention. No such luck - the other side of his hip collided painfully with the corner of his own desk and he let out a yelp. All heads swiveled in his direction and Nathaniel found himself the centre of attention once again.

 

“Are you alright, Mister Willowisp?” The teacher’s pink eyebrows raised as he turned from a rather fiery chalkboard depiction of the Lady Justice. “If you need to use the restroom, a simple raised hand will do. There’s no need to be quite so disruptive.”

 

“Ahem,” Nathaniel cleared his throat and gave a hasty bow. “M-may I be excused?”

 

“You may,” Mr. Goodwill nodded his head, evidently soothed by the boy’s oriental good manners.

 

“I gotta go too, teach.” Brent followed up immediately with a cocky grin.

  
“Hey now, mister Butcherson, you know the One-at-a-Time rule,” the old man gave a strained grin as the embarrassed waif all but skittered out of the classroom. “You’ll have to wait. A strapping lad like yourself should be able to hold it until between classes.” 

 

Nathaniel breathed a deep sigh of relief as he shut the classroom door behind him. He made it 30 feet before he collided with someone going around a corner.

 

“Ow, oh gosh, sor-” That smell again. Nathaniel found himself trailing off and lingering, briefly hypnotised by a familiar aroma of coffee, chocolate and spices. It was only when his eyelids felt heavy and he leaned his head against a warm chest that he realised the situation and snapped back to reality, stepping back with a spluttered apology. “W- _ waa _ , I’m sorry!”

 

Stavros Enrique Xavier gave a graceful huff of laughter as he reached out to caress the boy’s tender cheek. “Any time,  _ mi amor _ ,” he purred, though his manicured eyebrows quirked as he noticed the shimmering shades of blue in the waif’s eyes. “Crying again?” he asked with concern, lifting the boy’s chin. “Who has hurt you?”

 

Nathaniel bit his lip, looking off the side as he subconsciously rubbed his bruised hip. “It’s nothing, I just hit the corner of a desk…” he explained shyly.

 

“Oh?” Stavros leaned closer with a smouldering smile. “Shall I kiss it better? Would you like that?”

 

The black-haired boy’s breath stopped in his throat at the suggestion. Feeling like he might melt, all he could managed was a faint squeak. “Uh…  _ uhm _ ,” he fretted as the older boy pressed closer, tanned fingers insistently coaxing down the waistband of his gym shorts, exposing the marred, milky skin of his hip to the open air of the school hallway. 

 

“I will be gentle,” the promised in a low voice, and Nathaniel’s heart skipped a beat.

 

_ BRRRRRIIIIINGG _

 

The five minute warning bell! With a fearful gasp, the smaller boy wriggled away. He already had enough warnings for lateness, he didn’t need another. “I- I have to get back to class!” he cried out, flushed and flustered as he turned tail and skittered back to the door, pulling up the waistband of the spandex shorts as he went. He didn’t feel any more well-rested after that little trip at all! Panting softly, he went to open the classroom door and almost bit through his bottom lip as it burst open before he could even touch the handle.

 

“I am a witness!” Weird Dan blurted, thrusting out the palm of his hand with a strange stare fixated on the boy. 

 

Nathaniel clutched at his heart, his knees quivering as the jaundiced actor raised his other hand to join the other. He’d coloured in his fingers black; they kind of looked like eyelashes now. The strange boy briefly held his hands in front of his own eyes before he drew himself up to his full height and turned his palms up to the ceiling. 

 

“I am a witness,” he repeated again, swaying slightly. “That’s what all of this is, right?  _ Hahaha _ …”

 

Nathaniel blinked, barely having time to analyse the performance piece before a beefy hand shoved the spindly, delirious artist out the door.

 

“Outta my way, creep,” Brent said gruffly, though his scowl bloomed into a leer once he noticed Nathaniel standing there. “West entrance to the pool block,” he reminded him gloatingly as he swaggered off to his next class. “Don’t forget.”

 

Nathaniel could barely on his morning art classes with Brent’s demands weighing on his mind. Mr. Goodwill, who (unsurprisingly, given his chalkboard masterpieces) taught the life drawing class, said he was stylizing his figures too much. Nathaniel knew the criticism was appropriate, but he had a really hard time slowing down from the sharp, smooth lines he was used to making in order to really focus on the form of the models.

 

By lunchtime, the boy felt quite anxious for his medicine. He had to ask someone where the pool block was, but he was almost grateful to be making his way towards it. 

 

“Hey Nathaniel,” a group of boys with colourful hair grinned as he walked past. “Want to come eat with us?”

 

Nathaniel gave them a disturbed look as he walked past, seeing most of them had a ‘B’ sprayed on to some part or other of their clothing. There were even a couple of ‘C’s and one ‘F’. He highly doubted that Brent had gone on a wild graffiti spree, which meant that the boys had done it to themselves. He just couldn’t understand why, so he didn’t say anything at all as he avoided eye contact while hurrying past.

 

“I don’t think he likes it.”

 

“Maybe we didn’t do it right.”

 

“It’s not that, check him out! He’s already way past this look.” 

 

“Oh my god, I’m really feeling this ‘B’. This is like, Nu wave embarrassing.” 

 

“Don’t worry, Layken, we’ll say it’s aftermath ironic.”

 

As Nathaniel exited the main building and made his way along the outdoor path towards the Trope Academy pool block, the conversations he overheard took a very different turn. The passers-by themselves also seemed to be at least one-to-three feet taller than the artistic component of the school; if it weren’t for the noon-time sun, the boy was sure they would have cast shadows on him as he walked. 

 

“Dude, have you tried that new whey powder coach gave us? I’m benching more than ever.”

 

“For real? My dad still makes me do the egg whites thing. It’s fuckin’ nasty, bro but I’m pumped as shit.”

 

“ _ Dude _ .”

 

Nathaniel tried not to think of egg whites as he drew closer to the pool block; he could already smell the chlorine and it was putting him off the idea of lunch entirely. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his oversize cardigan. he tried not to think about it as he walked around to the west side of the building. He found Brent leaning against the wall in stonewash jeans and a red Tropedos hoodie, his hair damp and tousled. 

 

“Hey,” he said in a deep voice.

 

“... Hi Brent,” Nathaniel replied reluctantly, pressing his lips together nervously.

 

“So you didn’t fuck up,” the swimmer commented with a strange (albeit still condescending) warmth in his tone.

 

Nathaniel gave a little frown and pursed his lips. “Can you just give me my medicine? Please.”

 

“Not a chance,” Brent leered, looking the uniformed boy up and down. “Picture first.”

 

“Fine,” the smaller boy gave an exasperated sigh. “Just take it already. This place smells weird; I want to go back to the main building.”

 

“Not here,” the blond smirked and pushed off the wall, grabbing the boy’s hand as he walked him back towards the main building. 

 

“W-where are we going?” Nathaniel asked, blushing. He felt a few people in the quad give them some strange looks as they walked past, but no one seemed game to say boo to Brent Butcherson.

 

“There’s an empty classroom around the corner from the cafeteria,” Brent explained with cocky wink. “I stole the key from the janitor’s cart while he was cleaning the locker rooms.”

 

“B-Brent!” Nathaniel gasped. “You can’t steal things, it’s wrong. What if you get expelled?!”

 

“Not a chance,” Brent huffed with a sneer. “I’m carrying that swim team. We have no substitutes; coach basically begged me to stay. Why do you think I get away with cutting class to work photo shoots? I’m basically untouchable,” he bragged as he pulled the key out of his tight jeans pocket, opening an unmarked classroom door. There were a bunch of surplus desks stacked up along the walls, but the centre space was basically empty. Brent nudged Nathaniel inside and followed after, locking the door behind them with an ominous click.

 

Nathaniel glanced behind them and realised that someone had covered the inside of the door’s window with old newspapers from the art department. “Uhm… okay,” he spoke aloud with a faint tremble in his voice, his heart fluttering in his chest. “So how do you want me to… pose?” He said the last word with dying volume, feeling the pink rise in his cheeks. 

 

Brent didn’t answer for a moment, fishing his phone out of his pocket and taking his sweet time opening the camera app. When he looked up, it was with a devilish smirk. “Get on your knees,” he said.

 

“W-what?” Nathaniel blushed.

 

Brent’s smirk widened and he jostled his hoodie pocket with one hand so the other boy could here his heart pills rattling around in the bottle. “Do it and I’ll feed you your medicine.”

 

Nathaniel swallowed, but slowly lowered to his knees in front of the boy. The floor was hard; he wished he could sink through it and disappear. Brent’s muscled body got uncomfortably close as he pushed the boy’s cardigan off his shoulders so it hung from his bent elbows. 

 

“Hmm,” the jock stood back and looked down at him appraisingly. “How do you do that shimmering thing with your eyes? I like that.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Nathaniel said defensively, biting his lip.

 

“I think it’s why you cry,” Brent thought aloud, his grin turning mean as he reached down and threaded his fingers through the waif’s silky hair, clenching his hand into a fist.

 

“O-ow! Hey!” the smaller boy yelped, swatting at the jock’s hands. “Quit it!”

 

Brent ignored him and just pulled his hair tighter, twisting his grip a bit until tears began to well in Nathaniel’s big blue eyes.

 

“B-Brent!” Nathaniel wailed, his voice wavering. “It hurts, I mean it! Q-quit it!”

 

“Oh yeah, that’s good,” he straightened up again, admiring his handiwork. Nathaniel tried not to sniff as he struggled to keep the tears from spilling over the edge of his eyelids. 

 

“Spread your knees like a lot more and arch your chest out,” the blond carried on directing him, uncaring. “Try biting your thumb and turn your head slightly to the side but still look up.”

 

_ Click. Click. _ “Okay, now look down and away but use both hands to lift up your shirt a bit.”

 

Nathaniel wanted to die, but he did it. His whole body felt hot. Brent’s surprisingly confident direction made him feel funny, but her was still a jerk! His scalp hurt. His pale stomach rose up and down as he panted softly.

 

_ Click _ .

 

“Nice,” Brent stared at his phone a moment longer with hooded eyes and a crooked smile before he pocketed his phone and pulled out Nathaniel’s orange bottle of pills. 

 

Nathaniel looked somewhat relieved and moved to stand up. 

 

“No,” Brent instructed with a snicker as he stepped closer. “Stay down.”

 

Kneeling, Nathaniel blushed furiously and averted his eyes as he was basically eye-to-eye with the athlete’s crotch. Brent grabbed his chin and forced him to look up, watching intently as he held out two pills in his hand. “Say ‘aah’,” he chuckled condescendingly.

 

Nathaniel pouted with recently but parted his lips after a moment of sulking. “Aah…” he said quietly, swallowing the medicine as it was fed to him. He hoped it kicked in quickly; maybe his heart rate would calm down now that he’d had a proper dose. 

 

“... Thank you,” Nathaniel muttered quietly, ducking his head slightly as the swimmer reached down and ruffled his hair.

 

“Any time,” Brent sniggered as he pocketed the bottle, pulling the boy up onto his shaky feet. He squeezed Nathaniel’s white-cotton-clad shoulders briefly before he let him go. 

“Uhm, Brent?” Nathaniel asked nervously, pulling his cardigan around him once more as though that would help with his nerves.

 

The blond, who had already been turning towards the door, looked over his shoulder. “What?”

 

“Y-you’re not going to sell the p-pictures or something are you?!” Nathaniel blurted out in a panic. He couldn’t deal with something like that - what if it blew up into one of those internet scandals like you saw on the news? He was far too shy for that kind of attention. 

 

“Sell them?” Brent repeated incredulously with a disgusted scowl. Rounding on him with such intensity that Nathaniel yelped and backed up against one of the desks, he bent down so he and the smaller boy could see eye to eye. “The only one allowed to look at you like this is  _ me _ . You got that?”

 

“But why would y-  _ oof _ ,” the black-haired youth stumbled backwards as the swimmer pushed past him on his way to the classroom door. “W-wait! Brent!” Nathaniel cried, hurrying after him. His pale hand wrapped around the blond’s tanned wrist without even thinking about it, pulling him back before he could turn the lock.

 

The muscular boy paused, turning around with a mix of annoyance and mild surprise in his stormy eyes. “ _ What _ ?” he asked again, this time much more broodily.

 

“It’s just… it’s Friday,” Nathaniel said quietly. A deep furrow formed in his pretty brow as he  struggled to muster his resolve to get the words out. “I need my pills back for the weekend. I have to take them every day and I won’t be at school so… you know… I need them back.” He trailed off, his small teeth worrying his snakebite-pierced lip as he waited for the other’s response.

 

Brent raised his eyebrows, but a smug smile was quick to bloom on his shapely lips. “No, you don’t,” he purred. “The Tropedos have a home swim meet tomorrow. You’ll be coming in to cheer me on.” 

 

“What?” Nathaniel blinked, alarmed as the bigger boy started pulling away again. “B-but I have stuff to do! I don’t even know the first thing about competitive swimmi-” He stopped speaking with a little gasp as Brent pressed a finger to his soft lips. Feeling his skin tremble against the invasive digit, Nathaniel sniffed and looked up at the swimmer with sparkling blue eyes.

 

“You’ll be coming in to cheer me on,” Brent repeated huskily, his expression more serious now that he’d had to say it twice. He gave a slow grin as he moved his hand to gently pat the tender boy’s cheek. “I’ll even bag you up some pills for Sunday. Don’t be late, or I might lose them.”

 

“Okay…” Nathaniel said weakly. He guessed his errands would have to wait until Sunday. 


	8. Nathaniel Needs his Pills

Nathaniel kept his promise to go to the swim meet a secret from his friends. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with them, but the fact that he’d have to see Brent afterwards to get his medicine was just so embarrassing, he’d rather they didn’t know about it. Dudley was really keen to have another sleepover, however, so they planned one for Saturday night again. That way, all three of them could go shopping at the Megamall the next day. They had a really good fabric store there, and Nathaniel wanted to get swatches for the  _ Korlamity X  _ costume designs.

 

Thus, on Saturday morning, Nathaniel was all by himself and trying to figure out what to wear. He’d never been to a sports event before; he certainly didn’t have any Tropedos fan T-shirts unless he counted his ‘B’ shirt, and he really didn’t want to wear that again. Besides, swimming was a little different to stuff like baseball and basketball, wasn’t it? People would probably just be wearing regular clothes, and even if they weren’t… well, he was there for Brent. He didn’t really care about sports.

 

In the end, he picked a loose, off-the shoulder sweatshirt in a purple galaxy print, which he wore over a tight black singlet to hide the bandage on his chest. Teaming it with a pair of high-waisted black denim shorts (would Brent like that? He seemed to like shorts) and rumpled black socks, he pressed his lips together as he pulled on his platform sneakers in  _ Bandwagon Nebula _ print. They gave him a couple inches of extra height, so he was feeling pretty pleased with himself as he left his apartment.

 

When Nathaniel arrived at the Tropes pool block, however, he learned that he had grossly underestimated the Academy’s undying commitment to pep at all athletics events regardless of the type. The place was packed! Not only were other students filling the seating on either side of the huge, laned swimming pool, but also a ton of girls with homemade signs for their favourite teams. Nathaniel didn’t know where they had come from, but it might have had something to do with the abundance of bare-chested, muscular teens milling about - it wasn’t like they were up against a girls’ school, after all; all the swimmers on the benches were boys. A huge Tropes Academy banner hung alongside the opposing team’s school colours on the wall above the digital timer/scoreboard. Nathaniel didn’t recognise it, but he was glad it wasn’t Typecaster’s Technical. Given their academic focus, they probably didn’t even have a swim team. 

 

The shy boy ventured in a few metres from the door, not sure where he was meant to go. Everything was so busy! Hype music pumped quietly from the speakers so the sound wouldn’t drown out the announcer, but the combined chatter of so many people whipped everything up into a thriving atmosphere. It was almost overwhelming. 

 

And it  _ reeked  _ of chlorine. 

 

“Oh man,” Nathaniel swooned faintly, clapping a hand over his nose. He should have brought a face mask - why didn’t anyone else seem to be bothered by it? Maybe his nose was unusually sensitive. Fishing some mints out of his pocket, he popped two in his mouth to take his mind off of it. It helped a little, but he hoped the event didn’t run for too long.

 

“Hey, are you here for Brent’s reserved seat?” A tall, brown-skinned boy with a clipboard and ‘TEAM MANAGER’ printed beneath the torpedo mascot on his shirt put a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder.

 

“H-huh?” Nathaniel blinked, startled. “Yeah, how did you-”

 

“He said to look out for ‘some little artsy’ uh... ‘queer, probably in something purple’.” The guy repeated with mild reluctance, making air quotes with his fingers. “I figured it was you.”

 

Nathaniel felt his face burn. That jerk! He couldn’t have just given his name? He hadn’t even mentioned reserved seats yesterday. “Yes, it’s me,” he replied, sulking furiously. “Where’s the seat?”

 

“Poolside, the strip near the home team lockers,” the boy pointed a thumb back over his shoulder. “Just look for ‘BRENT’, I taped the names on them this morning.”

 

“...Thanks,” Nathaniel excused himself quickly, trying not to slip on the tiles as he weaved through other people to get to the reserved seats. Sure enough, there was one with Brent’s name on it, and he sat down with no great feeling of accomplishment. What was he supposed to do now? Looking around, everyone else seemed to be talking with their friends or cheering on swimmers who were warming up in some of the lanes. There was even a cheer squad! Nathaniel recognised a few artistic boys from the chorus of Drama Production class (maybe they majored in dance?) plus some other boys who were… wow, definitely gymnasts. They lifted the other cheerleaders up effortlessly as they led a chant.

 

“ _ Let’s go Tropedos, let’s go!” Clap, clap! “Let’s go Tropedos, let’s go! _ ”

 

Being alone in all of this sucked. He felt stupid sitting there. Where was Brent, anyway? If he didn’t  _ see _ Nathaniel sitting in the seat, then all of this was worthless. Nathaniel looked over at the team benches, but they all looked pretty similar - tanned, buff, and clad in navy speedos, swim caps and goggles. Where was he?

 

Someone got out of the pool from a warm up lap and even with the goggles and cap, the leer was instantly recognisable. Dripping with water, Brent Butcherson flashed his white teeth straight at Nathaniel and gripped his junk suggestively through his speedo. 

 

Nathaniel jumped and pressed his slender thighs together tightly, looking away with a blush. He heard him laugh as he walked away towards the team benches. Why did he have to be such a stud when he was so mean?!

 

The announcer’s voice came over to “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the season’s first swim meet between the Trope’s Academy  _ Tropedos  _ and St. Convenience’s  _ Slippery Shounens _ . A friendly reminder to keep flash turned off for all photography and  _ please refrain  _ from throwing undergarments in the direction of the pool. If all swimmers in the 100 metre freestyle would please approach the block…”

 

What followed next was fairly standard fare for a swim meet, but Brent seemed to be really good! Nathaniel didn’t know how to comment on form or technique, but he was certainly making the fastest time in his races. He placed first in nearly every race! No wonder he got away with murder...

 

“And now our final event for the day, give your best cheers for our athletes in the 500 meter butterfly…”

 

The crowd around him erupted into cheers as an old Aqua song came on over the speakers. Nathaniel watched Brent take his place on the starting block and strike a double biceps pose, hamming it up for the cheer squad.

 

“ _ Brent, Brent, heaven-sent! Brent, Brent, heaven-sent!” _

 

A pair of Tropedos swimmers passing by seemed less impressed. “ _ Ugh _ ,” on complained, “I get that he’s hot shit, but can he close his fucking locker? It almost hit me in the face when I came around the corner.”

 

Nathaniel’s ears pricked.

 

“Sh-shit dude, you put the door back after, right?” the other guy stuttered. “He’ll kill you if you touched it.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Nathaniel kept facing forward but his snow-blue oculars slid towards the locker room entrance with false piety. They had to be talking about Brent; he never locked his locker. So if it was in there just hanging open… were his pills in there? There was no way he’d have them with him by the pool. So that meant...

 

Five hundred meters was a long way, even for Brent. He’d be distracted for a while. When the starting gun went off and the crowd rose to their feet to cheer, Nathaniel wriggled off his seat and snuck over to the door of the locker room. He pulled out his phone and pretended to be take a selfie with the pool in the background until a few more boys came out to watch the race, then he slipped through the door while no one was looking. It only occurred to him while he was committing the act that if some Tropedos were in there, he’d be busted right away, but thankfully the place was empty. Ugh, it stunk in here too, but at least everything seemed clean; it was just the smell of the pool chemicals. He popped another mint and tried to his best to be quiet on the slightly squelchy no-slip sponge mats on the floor. 

 

There was one door left obnoxiously open on the top row of lockers in plain sight of the door. Nathaniel made a beeline for it, looking up at the contents. He didn’t even have to look hard! The bottle was right there on the top shelf. What if someone had stolen it? Well, someone who wasn’t him. He just wished Brent would be more careful. Standing up on his tip-toes, he reached up and just managed to snag the bottle, catching it with both hands as it tumbled down from the shelf.

 

“Yes!” he whispered excitedly to himself. He’d done it, now he could take them whenever he needed to without having to do pervy stuff for them.

 

Just then he heard a crescendo of cheers from the crowd outside. Oh no! He didn’t have much time. Scrabbling to fit the bottle in his shorts pocket, he pushed the locker shut and hurried around the bend of lockers, looking for a door or something. He’d never been here before, but there had to be an office or a back entrance to the locker room or someth-

 

“WHO THE  _ FUCK _ ,” a roar came from the entrance of the locker room and Nathaniel’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. Oh no! The locker door. He should have left it open.

 

“H-hey man,” someone said, nervously, probably a teammate, “It wasn’t me, okay?”

 

“You better fuckin’  _ pray  _ it wasn’t you, Tyler. When I find out who touched my shit...” 

 

Nathaniel grit his teeth as he heard wet footsteps and a metallic clang, kind of like someone wrenching a locker door open. 

 

“... _ Oh _ ,” Brent’s voice changed suddenly with a dark chuckle. “Oh, that’s  _ good… _ ”

 

“What is it man?”

 

“Shut up,” Brent snapped dismissively, on the move again. “Oh, Nath _ aaaan _ iel…”

 

Screaming internally, Nathaniel tip-toed-ran further down the row of lockers and into another corridor. Corridor! Okay, this was good. He wasn’t sure where he was going but he hurried off in one direction, looking for a way out. If he could just get  _ outside- _

 

“You little bitch!”

 

Nathaniel looked over his shoulder and screamed. Brent had already found him, his muscled chest heaving with anger and adrenalin before he came after him at a run. Panicking, the smaller boy flung himself into the nearest open doorway, which unfortunately didn’t have a door to lock behind him. It was a shower room, and even worse - a dead end! Nathaniel whirled around, wondering if he could dodge Brent and get back out into the hall, and that was when a wall of prime adolescent beef tackled him to the ground.

 

Nathaniel wasn’t sure if he screamed that time, but he was flooded with a fear of breaking a bone and having to go back into hospital. Amazingly enough, he didn’t hit anything that hard, at least in comparison to the floor; Brent had twisted in the fall and the waif basically landed on top of him. The downside of that was that the boy’s strong arms already had a firm grip around his middle, and they quickly moved to lock up his slender shoulders.

 

“You really thought that would work, huh?” Brent grunted, his smooth legs crossing tight over the front of Nathaniel’s thighs.

 

“Let me go!” Nathaniel wailed, squirming desperately. “I’m soo-oorry!”

 

“No way,” Brent growled, “You need to be taught a lesson that you ca- _ uh _ ,” The swimmers breath hitched in his throat and suddenly he snarled and shifted his grip, releasing Nathaniel’s arms to grip his wriggling hips instead. “Stop fucking moving,” he said lowly.

 

Nathaniel winced and stopped struggling, giving him time to realise that his ass was flush with Brent’s crotch… and he was only wearing wet speedos. “Uh… aaah! I’m sorry!” he shivered with embarrassment, burying his burning face in his hands. “I just wanted to get away, you’re making my clothes wet.”

 

“Shut up,” Brent said quietly, his breath warm in the smaller boy’s ear. 

 

Blushing furiously, Nathaniel was stuck listening Brent’s slow, deep breathing and his own pounding heartbeat. After a few minutes he managed to calm down a bit, his pulse slowing to normal. When he felt brave enough, he peeked out of his fingers and gasped as he felt Brent’s face nuzzle against his hair. 

 

“You smell good,” the blond murmured with a sniff.

 

Nathaniel couldn’t take it any more. “You don’t!” he whined, wriggling once again. “You reek of chlorine, Brent, let go of me!” 

 

“ _ Hngh _ ,” This time, miraculously, the buff boy released him except for just one wrist. Nathaniel managed to get to his feet and turn around, but he was stuck there as Brent slowly got to his feet with a haggard, frustrated sigh, his height looming over him. 

 

“S-sorry,” Nathaniel said quietly, biting on his pierced lip. “I have a sensitive nose…”

 

“You’re taller,” was all Brent said with a frown, his stormy eyes sizing up the top of the boy’s glossy back hair. 

 

“Oh,” Nathaniel shrugged shyly, lifted up on foot to show the side of his platform sneaker’s sole. “It’s my shoes.”

 

“Take them off,” Brent ordered in a smouldering voice. 

 

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, but he recognised that authoritative look. Swallowing, he bent to loosen the laces with one hand, pulling his foot out of one shoe. He briefly balanced on one leg to peel off his sock and then did the other. Barefoot, he basically reached Brent’s collarbone once more. 

 

“Is that... better?” he answered uncertainly. 

 

Brent responded by licking his smirking lips and holding out his other hand. “Pills and phone,” he demanded evenly.

 

Nathaniel sighed weakly and handed them over, standing there ashamed while Brent stooped and put the items inside the boy’s sneakers before pulling him further into the room.

 

“Wha- Brent!” Nathaniel cried out as he lurched forward, bumping into him when he stopped by the wall. 

 

Brent gave a huff of laughter and turned the faucet on the wall, water pouring from the shower fixture overhead. 

 

Nathaniel squeaked and jumped out of the way, feeling that the water was still cold when it hit the tiles and puddled around their feet. Standing directly under the spray, Brent didn’t seem phased at all, but then again he probably swam in cold water all the time. 

 

“You’re gonna get me wet!” Nathaniel protested. Brent sniggered in reply.

 

“You said I smell bad,” he pointed out. “So you’re gonna help me clean up.”

 

“What?” Nathaniel blinked incredulously. Without warning, the muscular teen suddenly reached out and dragged him under the shower spray. Nathaniel yowled and screwed his eyes shut as he got drenched, but at least the water had started to heat up. “B-Brent!” he spluttered, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. “My clothes!”

 

“I don’t care,” Brent replied cockily, reaching to a dispenser built into the wall that seemed to pump out some kind of generic, unscented shampoo-soap stuff. He reached up and lathered some in his blonde locks before he got more and wiped the soap onto the palm of Nathaniel’s hand. “Do my chest.”

 

Eek. Nathaniel faltered, holding his soapy hand away from the water to stop it washing away. “You can’t be serio-”

 

The taller boy grabbed his hand and brought it smack against the centre of his pecs. “You love it,” he said dismissively with a leer. “Now don’t make me tell you twice.”

 

This was too surreal. Nathaniel could see the fleshy landscape of the musculature right in front of his face; he could feel the warmth of the water mixing with Brent’s radiating body heat, but it didn’t feel real. The muscles rippled as Brent lifted his arms to wash his hair, and the smaller boy startled and began to spread the lather around his smooth chest. He swore the blond made one of them twitch on purpose while he was touching it, but he didn’t dare look up to see if the boy was grinning or not. Getting more soap from the dispenser, he worked his way down the boy’s sides and over his washboard stomach, his throat feeling tight with embarrassment. He didn’t have anything like this to compare to; his body was smooth, borderline bony, especially when compared to an athlete like this.

 

“A-are you done yet?” Nathaniel asked breathlessly as he rinsed lather off Brent’s hips. The chlorine smell was gone, but the room was full of steam now. 

 

“Not quite,” Brent smirked, squeezing the thick bulge at the front of his speedos. “I want this clean too.”

 

All words left Nathaniel’s mind. His pink lips parted in shock and he thought maybe his heart stopped beating. 

 

“Touch it,” Brent invited huskily. “Or are you scared?”

 

N-n-no way! He  _ couldn’t _ . “Uh…” Trembling, Nathaniel gave a little shake of his head as he swallowed some of the water that had dripped into his dry mouth. “I…”

 

Brent laughed quietly and shoved the smaller boy out from under the shower spray. “Bitch,” he jeered as he turned back to the wall and yanked down the front of his speedos, washing his dick himself. “Don’t go anywhere or you’re dead.”

 

“I wasn’t gonna,” Nathaniel lied, already halfway to his shoes. Standing in the middle of the steamy room, he sighed and peeled off his drenched sweatshirt. Now that he was out of the shower, having wet clothes felt super gross. He wrung the purple shirt out as best he could, but he had no idea what he was going to do about his other clothes. 

 

After a few moments, the shower cut off and Brent walked past him, making a beeline for the pill bottle in Nathaniel’s left sneaker. Sticking his tongue out at the boy as he picked it up (how did he manage to make that look sexy?!) he started towards the corridor. “Come on.”

 

With a sigh, the boy collected his shoes and phone and padded out of the corridor, still soaked. What would have happened if he didn’t get that stupid idea in his head? Maybe Brent would have just fed him his pills and let him go home. Dry.

 

When they returned to the Tropedos locker room, there were a lot more locker doors left hanging open, but that was because they were all empty. The place was like a ghost town.

 

“Wh-where is everyone?” Nathaniel blinked around at the deserted locker room. It sounded dead out by the pool, too, even though it had been roaring just a while ago.

 

“Meet’s over,” Brent explained as he swaggered over to his locker. “We won. The team is probably out getting pizza.”

 

“Don’t you want to go celebrate with them?” Nathaniel asked, confused.

 

“I can’t eat that shit,” Brent clicked his tongue, pulling clothes out of his duffel bag. “Plants and protein only. No carbs.”

 

Oh, right. The modeling. Nathaniel hadn’t really thought about that before… come to think of it, he’d never seen Brent in the cafeteria, either. He probably brought food from home every day. 

 

“Speaking of which,” Brent chuckled, unscrewing the lid of the pill bottle. “Say  _ ‘aah’ _ .”

 

Nathaniel lowered his eyelashes with a little pout and stepped forward with a demure, half-hearted “Aah.” Brent popped the pills in his mouth and he swallowed silently, standing there in his wet clothes and feeling rather small indeed.

 

“You’ll get even more sick if you don’t get out of those clothes,” Brent pointed out dryly as he rubbed his hair with a towel. 

 

Nathaniel frowned. “I don’t have anything else to wear,” he grumbled. Seconds later, a striped T-shirt hit him in the face. Nathaniel grunted softly and caught it before it got wet on his singlet, holding it out to examine. It was one of Brent’s; while it would definitely  _ clothe  _ him, it was going to be huge on his slender frame. “Th-thanks, I guess,” he said quietly, folding it neatly and placing it on the bench before he turned away to peel his wet singlet away from his stomach. When he did, he gasped; the water had seeped through the bandage on his chest! Was that bad for it? 

 

“Hurry up,” Brent reminded him disdainfully.

 

“Uhm…” Nathaniel hesitated, emitting a squeak as the other boy whirled him around. Brent had changed into a fresh pair of red boxer briefs, the fluffy towel slung around his broad shoulders. Quirking his eyebrows at the whimpering boy, he easily knocked the wet singlet out of his hands, exposing the bandage in plain sight.

 

“What’s that shit?” he asked frankly, looking the smaller boy up and down.

 

“It’s from my surgery,” Nathaniel admitted reluctantly. “It’s to protect the stitches.”

 

“Cool,” the swimmer said keenly, reaching for a corner of the dressing. Nathaniel yelped and swatted his hand away.

 

“No!” he cried, pressing his delicate hands over his chest. “It’s ugly! I don’t want you to see!”

 

“Ugh,” Brent scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a little bitch. Come here.” 

 

Nathaniel yowled in protest, but what touched him was cotton. Blinking, he sniffed as Brent rubbed down his hair and shoulders with the towel, patting gently over the wet bandage but making no attempt to rip it off.

 

“We’re both guys, so just take off your shorts already, crybaby,” Brent clicked his tongue. “You can leave your underwear on.”

 

“...Okay,” Nathaniel said quietly, undoing his fly and sliding the wet denim down his thighs. Once they reached his knees, the shorts fell to his ankles easily. Nathaniel expected Brent to hand over the towel, but he dried him off all the way down his legs. Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut with a blush as the boy pressed the towel against his boxer briefs. “Qu-quit it,” he huffed, but it came out more like a chuckle as he gently prised Brent’s hands away and took the towel, drying off his butt himself. 

 

“So did you like me out there?” Brent asked smugly, turning back to his locker to continue dressing.

 

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, but he quickly figured out that the boy was talking about the swimming pool, not the showers. “Oh! Y-yeah, you’re really fast,” he admitted earnestly, gathering up his wet clothes. 

 

“Told you I was carrying this team,” Brent grinned, zipping up his Tropedos hoodie.

 

Nathaniel nodded quietly before he picked up Brent’s shirt and wriggled into it. It reached all the way down to his thighs! The neck hole exposed his collar bone, but it did hide the bandage on his chest and the fabric was really soft. With a little smile, he sat on the bench to put on his sneakers. Brent’s butt looked really good in sweatpants when he bent over to tie his shoes. Nathaniel jumped and quickly averted his eyes when the boy stood up again. What kind of thought was that to have?!

 

“Oh yeah,” the blond grabbed something else from the top shelf of his locker. “Here.”

 

Nathaniel blinked, holding out his hand. It was two of his pills in one of the little ziplock bags. He really had set aside his pills for Sunday. “Oh,” Nathaniel remarked, stifling the urge to laugh. This was so weird. “Thanks.”

 

“I’d make you come see me tomorrow, but I’ve got stuff to do,” Brent shrugged, “Next weekend you may not be so lucky.”

 

“...Right,” Nathaniel said uneasily, not sure how to take that piece of information. “Well… bye, I guess. I’ll, uhm, wash your shirt and bring it to school on Monday.”

 

“You can keep it if you want,” Brent said casually, hoisting his duffel bag over his shoulder. “I get clothes for free all the time. Looks like it makes a good dress for you,” he snickered.

 

“It does not,” Nathaniel pouted, hugging his phone to his chest. He wasn’t opposed to the casual T-shirt dress kind of look, but this didn’t look cute like that at all. He was just a loser wearing damp underwear and a shirt that was way too big for him, and something about that really got under his skin. He wanted to get home and get into his nice clothes.

 

“Do whatever you want, then,” Brent gave a flippant, lopsided grin as he started walking away, shaking the orange bottle of pills over his shoulder. “Just don’t forget to come see me on Monday, or maybe your heart will give out.”

 

With that, he left. Nathaniel sighed and followed after him, but he couldn’t keep up with Brent’s long strides.He walked home by himself as quickly as he could, still feeling self-conscious about his outfit, but thankfully most people seemed to have better things to do with their Saturday than hang around waiting to see unfashionable youths.

 

When he made it through his front door, he breathed a sigh of relief, though he was surprised to find a letter waiting for him on the ground. It wasn’t a mail day, so who had delivered it personally? Shutting the door behind him, he bent and picked it up, opening it once he had put his wet clothes in the laundry hamper. It read:

 

_ Guten tag herr Willowisp, _

 

_ It will no doubt please you to hear that our initial bout in this latest chess match was wholly unsatisfying. Kudos to you for such a defensive maneuver, for it would seem that in surrounding yourself with buffoons, you too have become an inexcusable nincompoop! _

 

_ Naturally this is intolerable to me, hence I writing to you today to issue written notice that if you will not willingly face reality in your rightful place as my rival at Typecaster’s Technical Institute, I will smoke you out! _

_ I have already taken measures to make your farce most uncomfortable in that abominable asylum. In the spirit of stealing each other’s research, I have refined one of your more interesting concoctions to affect only you. If any shred of your self respect remains, we will see how it fairs against circumstances that the real you would find most intolerable. _

 

_ I look forward to your return to Typecaster’s Technical. Quidquid est necessarium! _

 

_ Auf wiedersehen, _

 

_ Edwin von Kurzstapel, B.Sc. _

 

Nathaniel stared at the letter incredulously for what felt like minutes after reading it, the paper shaking slightly in his hands as he tried to make sense of it. His response started out as a huff of disbelief, but as he began to breathe deeper, and angry whine brewed in his throat like a boiled kettle.

 

Running into the living room, he flung himself onto the sofa and scooped up a throw cushion, pressing it to his face to muffle his scream. He wasn’t done after one; he took another breath and did it again, kicking his feet up into the air. 

 

Just who was this guy?! Nothing he said made any sense! Nathaniel had never even heard of his stupid school for technical jerks until he’d shown up at Tropes with his private diary pasted across the fence. And he still had half of it! As if he needed more of his stuff held hostage. This was so unfair! Why did crazy stuff like this keep happening to him?

 

Panting, Nathaniel stared up at the ceiling with a frustrated sigh. At least this weird Edwin kid had used the mail slot to deliver the letter. Changing the locks had been a good idea. 

 

He supposed there was really nothing he could do about it right now. He needed to get out of these clothes and have a shower before Kip and Dudley came over. A cold shower.


	9. Nathaniel and the Embarassing Hallway Incident

“ _ Oww _ ! Dudley! What the hell, it’s not even a school day!” Kip snarled, hopping on one foot as he grabbed the other in his hands. It was the second time he’d stubbed his toe on Dudley’s oversized duffel bag that night.

 

Dudley’s freckled face popped up from behind the sofa, looking slightly guilty. “Ah, sorry Kip. We run drills during the off-season instead of going to games.”

 

In the kitchen, Nathaniel sighed as he washed up the chopping board he’d used for the carrot sticks. Normally the bickering would bother him more, but he was feeling especially cute now that he’d washed up after that morning’s ‘incident’ and gotten into his star-print pyjamas. He’d even tied the longest section of his hair back into a topknot to keep it out of his eyes. Dudley had seemed a bit standoffish when he saw it, but Kip had given him a compliment, and well… Kip was more stylish than Dudley. There was no other way to say it. Even right now his red-orange-gold crop top reminded Nathaniel of roaring flames.

 

“What are you  _ keeping  _ in there, rocks?!” Kip complained incredulously, limping a few steps to brace himself on the wall. 

 

“It’s just gym stuff,” Dudley pouted, defensive.

 

“Well, stop leaving it out where people are walking.” Kip scolded him, reaching for the door adjacent to Nathaniel’s bedroom. “What’s this, a closet? Let’s just shove it in here...”

 

Nathaniel nearly tripped over himself running around from behind the kitchen counter. “D-don’t go in there!” he cried, panicking. “That’s Aunt Marjorie’s room!”

 

“Whoa,” Kip said quietly. It was too late; he’d already opened the door. “Is your Aunt a hoarder?” he quirked his eyebrows over his shoulder, pushing the door open wider. 

 

“W-what? No…” Nathaniel blinked at the contents of the bedroom too, confused. He hadn’t dared set foot in Aunt Marjorie’s bedroom since he’d moved into her apartment, but he would never have guessed it contained something like this. Sure, there was a fairly regal-looking bed and dresser and all the other usual bedroom that he’d imagined someone like his Aunt would have - but the rest of it was packed full of racks of clothes! Like,  _ hardcore _ ; the kind of racks you could move around on wheels, a lot of it covered up with protective plastic like at a drycleaners. 

 

“Oh my god,” Kip exclaimed as he strolled into the bedroom, sounding impressed. “Is that a Versace?”

 

Nathaniel gasped so hard his lungs almost ran out of air. “Kip,  _ no! _ ” he squeaked, clinging to the door frame. “We’re not allowed to go in there!”

 

“What, is your Aunt Spiderman or something?” Kip clicked his tongue brazenly. “Is she gonna sense we’re in her room from all the way in Milan or Paris or whatever?”

 

Nathaniel pressed his lips together, not sure what to say. Honestly, he really did think there was a chance that she’d be able to tell he’d broken a rule, but he knew he would sound dumb if he said  _ that _ . 

 

Kip just flashed him a sly grin with his brilliantly white teeth. “Lighten up, Nathaniel. Come take a look at this stuff! Ooh, now I  _ know  _ this is Valentino,” he carried on, pulling a green, colour-blocked, halter-neck jumpsuit with a geometric print off another rack. “Spring 2017, ready to wear. I saw it in a magazine. Your Aunt is cool!”

 

“Yes, she’s very glamorous,” Nathaniel conceded with a sigh, his bare foot scuffing at the doorway. After another moment, he broke out into a cheeky smile and went to enter the bedroom but a pair of hands on his shoulders stopped him. 

 

Dudley had finally joined the pair, resting his chin atop Nathaniel’s head with a surly frown at all the racks. “Your Aunt has a lot of clothes, Nathaniel,” he commented with a small grimace. “Can we order pizza yet?”

 

“Uh, sure, Dudley,” Nathaniel blinked up at him as best he could from that position. 

 

“Hold up, I don’t recognise this one,” Kip lifted an eyebrow, plucking up a kimono-style jacket that was draped over the back of a chair. Black with half-length sleeves, it was screen-printed all over with the capitals ‘NY’ in white. “Maybe it’s some underground designer, but it seems kind of small. Maybe it’s Asian? No offense.”

 

“Huh?” The short boy blinked, wriggling out from under the weight of Dudley’s head and padding into the room on socked feet.

 

“Nath _ an _ iel,” Dudley nagged. “You’ll get in trouble.”

 

“But it’s mine. I think,” The boy said uncertainly, taking it from Kip’s dark hands with a quizzical frown. After a moment more, he flipped it around and pulled it onto his shoulders. It fit perfectly.

 

“Cute, though maybe not with the pyjamas,” Kip gave a lopsided grin. 

 

“Yeah… I think I remember now,” Nathaniel smiled as he worked the long fabric around his waist. “The ends wrap around like this, so you get the silhouette effect on the upper torso without the fabric shifting around under a separate sash. I think… I think I got this as a souvenir one time when Aunt Marjorie took me to Fashion Week. I guess in… New York?” He held out his sleeve, inspecting the print.

 

“Oh man,” Kip threw his head back with a sigh. “I can’t get my parents to take me to anything nearly as cool as that. For them it’s all fundraisers and yacht racing, you know? It’s so boring I could die.”

 

“Is that why they named you Skipper?” Nathaniel asked, tilting his head to one side.

 

Kip pulled a face as he trudged out of the bedroom. “Don’t remind me. What you do guys want to watch tonight?” 

 

“Pick anything,” Dudley waved his hand as he turned and walked away. “I need to use the bathroom real quick.”

 

“Thanks for the update,” Kip said snidely.

 

Nathaniel, remembering where he was, skittered out after him and pulled the door shut behind him. “I’ll order the pizza,” he clapped his hands together with a sigh, walking over to his phone on the kitchen counter. “No anchovies.”

 

Kip ended up logging in to his parents’ Netflix account and putting on a really intense crime drama. They were barely half an episode in and already engrossed when the doorbell snapped Nathaniel out of it. Excusing himself from the sofa while his friends stared at the screen with slack jaws, he went to answer the door, subconsciously tightening the tie on his robe as he did so. “That was fast,” he gave a polite laugh as the door opened, and then he stopped. No one was there. Thinking immediately of Edwin, he looked down apprehensively, expecting more hate mail or perhaps a miniature spy robot, but instead there was a… rose? “Eh?” Before he could pick it up, someone with broad shoulders swung in from the side, leaning on the doorframe and making poor Nathaniel nearly jump out of his skin. 

 

“Why hello,” Stavros Enrique Xavier gave a dazzling smile as he tossed a few glossy strands of hair out of his eyes. Only a few, for the rest of his tousled locks were safely secured with a regulation scarlet scrunchie to match his pizza delivery uniform. With his polo shirt tucked into a pair of scandalously tight bluejeans, he had the edge of the pizza box resting on his shoulder with an air of effortless bravado that made Nathaniel bite his bottom lip.

 

“S-Stavros?” he blinked, confused. When he realised it really was the dishy Drama prefect from school, he gasped and stepped out of the apartment, pulling the door shut behind him so his friends wouldn’t hear the scene. “What are you doing here?” He asked incredulously.

 

Stavros gave an elegant huff of laughter, his brown fingers drumming on the cardboard pizza box. “I am afforded certain privileges of information, as the junior assistant manager of our local…  _ pizzeria _ ,” he said smokily, resting a palm on the closed door as he leaned closer. “When I saw that my most tender student had placed another order for nourishment, I knew I had to attend personally to ensure maximum... customer satisfaction.”

 

“That’s nice, I guess,” Nathaniel peeped, clutching the folded $20 bill to his chest. Honestly, he was still confused how Stavros had even known it was him who placed an order, but his head felt kind of foggy so he didn’t dwell on it. “Ah, you smell different,” he said with a deep breath, feeling the heat rise not just in his cheeks, but pretty much the whole expanse of his alabaster skin. 

 

“Aha, yes! My new cologne,” the Greek-Hispanic boy said keenly, quirking his eyebrows. “Do you like it? They say it has top notes of black licorice.”

 

Leaning back against the door, it was all Nathaniel could do to nod weakly. Was it licorice? It smelled like something more than that, but he couldn’t figure it out. Whatever it was, it was making him feel weird. Maybe Stavros would just leave once he paid him. With a shaking hand, the slender boy went to hand over the money, giving a yelp when the tanned boy dramatically slapped it away before pinning the same hand back against the closed door.

 

“ _ No _ ,” Stavros said emphatically, leaning in close with a smouldering look in his dark eyes. “I could not possibly take your money,  _ mi cielo _ .” 

 

“B-but won’t you get in trouble?” Nathaniel stuttered, turning one cheek against the varnished wood with a furrow in his brow. His soft lips parted in a gasp as warm fingers guided his chin to face forward again, tilting his face up to meet Stavros’ gaze. He had to look up even more than usual; something about the older boy’s presence sent him weak at the knees. 

 

“It would be worth it,” the boy purred passionately, looking down at the other’s lips as a smile tugged at the corners of his own. “Of course,” he began, the words twisting out like silk. “You could always repay me… with a kiss, instead.”

 

Nathaniel’s breath hitched in his throat. He felt a pressure between his legs, and with a glance down he found it was Stavros’ thigh. He was standing so close. “Uhm,” he began weakly, reaching out for the older boy’s scarlet pizza delivery uniform. 

 

Next thing he knew, hot lips were pressed up against his with far more passion (and tongue) than on his first day at Tropes Academy. Moaning into the boy’s mouth, Nathaniel’s delicate fingers gripped tight at the polo shirt as his hips bucked forward of their own accord, sliding over the warm denim. 

 

This pizza box landed flat on the apartment’s welcome mat and the petite boy gave a breathless cry as his upperclassman broke for air and moved to the sweet spot below Nathaniel’s ear. 

 

“S-Stavros!” Nathaniel hiccuped with flushed cheeks, arching back against the door. “W-what are y-- a _ ah _ .”

 

“ _ Shhhh _ ,” the older boy husked, warm hands trailing down Nathaniel’s sides and gripping his hips through the soft fabric of his pyjamas. His thigh pressed between his legs and Nathaniel’s eyes nearly rolled back, his pink tongue tasting the night air as his pulse quickened. 

 

“ _ Nnn… _ ” Nathaniel hummed helplessly as his hips rocked of their own accord. Quivering between Stavros and the door, the Japanese boy’s cries were intermittently muted by short bursts of domineering kisses against his lips. 

 

“Yes,  _ yes, mi cielo _ ,” Stavros panted, getting breathless himself as he grabbed a handful of Nathaniel’s rump and pulled him closer. “The sounds you make are so sweet; you don’t know what you do to me.”

 

The boy cried out in response, tossing head from side to side as clutched at the other’s shirt for support, pressing his hips urgently against the slacks of Stavros’ uniform. He wanted to say something coherent; maybe beg for more or point out that someone could see them at any minute… but he just couldn’t. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as a tongue slid over the shell of his ear, feeling kind of gross and erotic at the same time. 

 

“Cum for me, Nathaniel,” Stavros urged against his ear, stroking faster. “Let me feel you tremble.  _ Cum _ .”

 

Nathaniel had never wanted to not want something so bad in his whole life, but his body wouldn’t stop no matter how embarrassing it was. It just felt so good! The friction of the cloth got even better when a wet spot bloomed from the tip of his cock, and Stavros took advantage of it by a slipping a hand between them and running his thumb over the tip, stroking mercilessly. In the end, Nathaniel could barely stifle his sweet moan as his tipped over the edge of orgasm, staining the inside of his shorts. Suddenly feeling heavy, he slumped against the door with a quiet groan.

 

“Beautiful,” Stavros chuckled quietly, gently squeezing the slick mess at the front of the boy’s shorts. The resulting whimper was music to his ears. Stooping to collect the pizza box from the ground, he pressed it into Nathaniel’s hands with a final, surprisingly chaste kiss on his cheek. “Any time you feel malnourished or… unsatisfied,” he gave a soft laugh at his own coy language. “You know who to call. Next time I would be happy to throw in a few extras, though perhaps when you are not entertaining company.” 

 

Nathaniel gawked at him, holding the pizza box limply in his hands. He managed a stupid nod.

 

“Very well,” Stavros gave a cocky grin as he adjusted himself through his jeans. “I’ll see you at school on Monday. Try not to be late.” With that, he turned and left, gradually disappearing from sight as he took the stairs at a quick trot. 

 

“Uh…  _ haa _ …  _ haha _ ,” Nathaniel panted with a weak laugh, his head slowly clearing as he took steady breaths of fresh air. Had that really just happened?!

 

Downstairs, he heard the buzz of a scooter engine start up before Stavros pealed out of the parking lot at a maximum speed of 31 miles per hour. 

 

Oh god, it had. The front of his shorts were warm and sticky. Clenching his teeth, he rubbed his face dry on his sleeve then turned and scrambled to open the front door before someone else saw him like that.

 

Back in the living room, his friends were oblivious. The crime show had progressed to some kind of courtroom with the main character’s own twin brother on the witness stand. Nathaniel very deliberately approached them from behind the sofa, practically garroting Dudley with the side of the cardboard box. 

 

“P-pizza’s here,” he announced awkwardly. Dudley jerked in surprise, but accepted the box in his freckled hands.

 

“Thanks,” he commented, tilting his head back to look at his smaller friend. Even upside-down, the frown that bloomed on his face was clear, and Nathaniel’s heart leaped.

 

“W-what?” He squeaked, face burning.

 

“You really should take that thing off, Nathaniel,” Dudley wrinkled his nose at the NY-print kimono. “It looks weird.”

 

“He’s right, Nathaniel. It doesn’t go with those pyjamas,” Kip added without looking away from the TV screen, reaching over to lift the lid on the pizza box.

 

“O-okay!” Nathaniel piped up, clapping his hands with sudden, extreme enthusiasm. “I’ll go change!” With that, he shot into his room like a tiny rocket, his heart pounding in complaint inside his scarred chest. It was worth it; not being seen in such an embarrassing situation. He took the kimono jacket off and hung it up respectfully in his closet before hurrying to clean himself up. He changed into a pair of baby-blue pyjamas that brought out the crystalline hues of his eyes. Wadding his soiled clothes up into a ball, he shoved them under his bed (he’d put them straight in the wash as soon as he was alone tomorrow) then ventured back out into the living room.

 

“Dude, his own twin brother?  _ He _ has an evil twin, too! They were secret triplets this whole time!” Kip exclaimed, looking over with a dropped jaw and a half-eaten slice of pizza. “This show is wild.”

 

“Cool pyjamas,” Dudley nodded, noticing the rabbit printed on the front of the delicate boy’s t-shirt. “Matches your favourite food.”

 

“Heh,” Nathaniel rubbed his cheeks with both hands self-consciously. “I guess it does. You guys saved me some pizza though, right?”

 

“Sure, there might be some remains after Cyclone Dudley,” Kip drawled.

 

“H-hey, I run around a lot!” Dudley said indignantly.

 

“Play nice, you two.” Nathaniel chided as he grabbed one of the remaining slices and wriggled between the pair of them on the sofa. “You might have to fill me in on some bits in the next episode.”

 

“Okay, well strap in,” Kip said keenly, leaning back and looping an arm around the Japanese boy’s narrow shoulders. “I’m sure it’s gonna get even weirder from here.”


	10. Nathaniel Goes Shopping

In the morning, Nathaniel found that tying his hair up had made it much curlier than usual once he took out the elastic. Deciding to roll with it, he used his narrowest hair straightener to curl the rest of it to suit. Since Brent wasn’t going to be around to be weird about it, he wore his platform sneakers teamed with black socks and ripped black fishnet tights. Most of his leather shorts were concealed by the long, loose babydoll hem of his iris purple T-shirt.

 

He  _ had  _ thought about wearing his ‘new’ kimono for a good long while, but ultimately he decided against it since it seemed to put Dudley in such a bad mood. They were already going to the mall today (not exactly Dudley’s favourite place in the world) so he didn’t want him being any more of a sourpuss than usual, especially since he’d be dragging him around both the textiles shop  _ and  _ clothing stores.

 

Kip, on the other hand, was much more enthusiastic. “Check it,” he announced as soon as Nathaniel came out into the living, holding out his arms as posed in a white spaghetti-strap jumpsuit with a geometric turquoise and emerald print. Said arms were laden with bronze and gold bangles - Nathaniel wouldn’t have been surprised to learn the jeweller had made them all himself.

 

“That’s really nice, Kip,” Nathaniel said brightly as he made his way over to the kitchen, giving a playful spin as he walked so the hem of his shirt fanned out.

 

“What is that? A kind of baby-punk vibe? It suits you.” Kip smiled. “Dudley? Are you dresse-”

 

Dudley yawned loudly as he pulled his Tropenadoes Team Fodder jersey over his head. Nathaniel could have sworn he caught Kip rolling his eyes, but he didn’t say anything in favour of keeping the peace so he could focus on making breakfast instead. 

 

Taking the bus route that went outside the outskirts of town was not a popular move with most residents of Settingsville. The atmosphere was thin out there; little more than roughly drawn sketches of countryside dotted by the occasional camping site or haunted manor. The Super Outlet Megamall, however, existed effortlessly by way of countless impressions of conventional Americana in the collective subconscious; blurry at the edges of the overlays but easily brought into focus with the right lens of a main character, particularly one as  _ kawaii _ as Nathaniel Willowisp.

 

“Okay,” Dudley yawned as they strolled through the glimmering plexiglass doors. “Where is this fabric store you’re so worked up abou- _ hrk!” _

 

Nathaniel had managed to jump up to snag his taller friend’s elbow, pulling it down to grab his hand and drag him forward across the polished flecked-marble tiles, weaving in and out of the milling shoppers and kiosks. Kip followed after them (a great deal more gracefully) until they wound up in front of a giant store with a quilted sign spelling out FABRIC FIXATION. 

 

“This is your favourite store, huh?” Kip smiled fondly at his friend, who was already rising up on the balls of his platform sneakers with excitement. 

 

Nathaniel gave an eager little nod over his shoulder before he shot into the store, disappearing in the rows upon rows of colourful fabric rolls. 

  
Dudley draped himself across one of the courtesy sofas at the front of the store with a dramatic sigh while Kip amused himself looking at the beads in the hobby section. He wasn’t there for long, however; it was maybe eight minutes before Nathaniel popped up beside him, tugging at the pleated fabric on the hip of his jumpsuit.

 

“ _ Kip, _ ” he said urgently. “I need your opinion on something.”

 

“Sure,” Kip raised his eyebrows. “What is it?” His eyebrows had nowhere else to go when the smaller boy whipped out a store order form that was already filled out with a lengthy list of fabrics. 

 

“I need at least a fat quarter of each of these kinds of silks for the applique on Princess MiHi’s hanbok, but do you think I should get more to make distinguishing headbands for the chorus?” Nathaniel asked with a furrow in his brow, gently tapping a pen against the clipboard holding the form.

 

“H-how did you fill that out so quickly?” Kip asked, perturbed.

 

“Oh,” Nathaniel bat his eyelashes, looking away piously. “I actually had most of it in mind when I drew up the concept sketches. I just needed to touch it in person and make sure they had it in stock.”

 

“The concept sketches for… that princess, and the chorus guys, right?” Kip squinted.

 

“No, the whole cast.” Nathaniel explained sweetly.

 

Kip coughed. “Nathaniel, it’s been less than a week. How did you design so many costumes so fast?!”

 

“Oh, well, I… I don’t really have anything else to do with my spare time when you guys aren’t around,” Nathaniel flushed. “I also use most of my free periods on it once I finish all my work for drawing class and academic subjects…”

 

“You need to slow down, little buddy,” Kip sighed, ruffling his friend’s curled hair. “Have you even shown those concepts to anyone yet?”

 

“Uhm, no.” Nathaniel admitted, hugging the clipboard to his chest. “They’re in my folder at home. I was going to show them to Stavros and Chad tomorrow.”

 

“Chad Masalha? That guy who always wears a beret?” Kip raised his eyebrows again.

 

“Yeah, he’s the director. Why?” Nathaniel pressed his lips together as his friend laughed.

 

“Don’t even order any fabric until he’s seen the designs,” Kip scoffed, shaking his head. “That guy has a whole one of those director’s megaphones shoved up his ass. If he vetoes one of your designs and you have fabric you can’t use, you’ll mess up your budget.”

 

Nathaniel gasped, pink rising in his cheeks. “You’re right! I hadn’t even thought of that.” He flushed, ducking his head with embarrassment. “I’m so stupid, I’ve never needed to get stuff approved before when I made it for myself. I almost messed everything up!”

 

“Jeez, beat yourself up, why don’t you? It’s fine, Nathaniel, just show them the designs tomorrow and you can order what you need next weekend. Or do it online if it’s that urgent.” 

 

Nathaniel gave a little nod before he launched forward and hugged his friend’s midsection tightly. “Thanks Kip!” 

 

“Uh, no problem.” Kip grinned, patting the small boy on the shoulder.

 

“Of course, you know what this means, right?” Nathaniel lifted his head, his eyes partially obscured by locks of curly hair as he looked over his shoulder.

 

“What?” Kip asked cautiously.

 

“I need to get _ even more _ swatches so I have alternate suggestions ready if Chad rejects something,” Nathaniel said brightly, all smiles again as he ran back towards the racks.

 

Kip sighed. Eventually he joined Dudley (who was gently snoring) on the courtesy sofa. It was a good twenty five minutes before Nathaniel emerged again with a swatch book nearly an inch thick.

 

“I  _ did  _ order a bunch of the really cheap cotton,” he confessed as Kip looked up from his phone. “I’m going to use that no matter what happens; I need it to test the fit of the garments and adjust patterns.”

 

“Damn,” Kip stared at the book. “I’m never feeling bad about hoarding jewelry supplies ever again.”

 

“It’s not  _ that  _ bad,” Nathaniel pouted as he shook Dudley’s shoulder. “Dudley? Wake up, I’m all done. We can go to other stores now. Thanks for waiting.” He passed a guilty grin between the two of them. “I guess I’m just a little nervous; I’ve never designed a whole set of costumes before.”

 

“Could have fooled me,” Kip drawled as he stood with a stretch. “Can we go look at ready-made clothes now? My parents upped the balance on my credit card because I promised to dye my hair natural before grandma visits.”

 

Dudley made a noise that sounded close to pain. “I might make a detour to the Sports Shack while you guys are doing that,” he said evasively, getting to his feet. 

“That’s okay, Dudley,” Nathaniel smiled. “We can meet up in the food court afterwards and get some lunch.”

 

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Kip nodded as they walked out of the store. “I want to take you to  _ Protagoniste _ .”

 

“ _ P-Protagoniste _ ?” Nathaniel stuttered, sure that he’d misheard. “That really fancy place? Don’t they like… not even accept money? That’s what I heard.”

 

“Yeah,” Kip said easily, “They’ve got a pretty unique system, but I’m not complaining.”

 

“I don’t know if I’m good enough to shop there, Kip,” Nathaniel blushed.

 

“Of course you are!” The purple-haired boy retorted, his earrings jangling as he tossed his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. Dudley, tell him he’s… Dudley?”

 

Looking around, their gangly friend was nowhere to be found. 

 

“He must have run ahead to the sports store,” Nathaniel mused aloud, pouting. He was honestly a little hurt that his friend hadn’t said goodbye first.

 

“He’s been even weirder than usual, lately,” Kip clicked his tongue. “Whatever. He’ll text us when he wants to meet up again. Maybe by then he’ll be finished having his man-period.”

 

“Kip!” Nathaniel gasped. “That’s mean!”

 

“Look me in the eye and tell me he hasn’t been acting weird lately,” Kip pursed his lips down at the boy, placing a hand on his hip.

 

Nathaniel sighed, hooking a lock of hair behind his studded ear. “I guess,” he admitted reluctantly. “I know we don’t have the same hobbies, but he’s usually a bit more lively than this kind of… sleepy, absent vibe he’s had lately.”

 

“Mm-hmm,” Kip nodded, proven right. “I say we just let him go do his thing and maybe he’ll recharge. In the meantime, we can get new outfits.”

 

The cute boy seemed to perk up at that idea. “Okay,” he said brightly, hugging the swatch book as they walked along the mall strip. As the pair reached one of the large, open spaces with escalators and elevators to allow shoppers to move to different levels, possibly a foyer or a stairwell depending on how one wanted to skew the Google definitions; they heard heavy bass music coming from the basement level.

 

_ UNCE UNCE UNCE UNCE _

 

“What the hell is this weak club track?” Kip wrinkled his nose as they got closer.

 

“It’s like a store opening or something,” Nathaniel remarked, leaning over the edge of the bannister and looking down at the crowd below. They were all gathered before a big store called the SPORTS SHACK, although the entrance was blockaded by a semi-circular stage with an announcer flanked by multiple, muscular models. Each of them wore a different kind of swimsuit or compression pants. “Oh, wait,” Nathaniel corrected himself, showing more interest. “It’s a fashion show. They must have a new range out.”

 

“Now that’s a reason to forgive tacky music,” Kip smirked as he joined Nathaniel in leaning on the railing. Raising a single purple-polished finger, he snickered as he pointed at each of the models. “I’d go there, there  _ and  _ there,” he listed them off. “But not there. You can have him, Nathaniel.”

 

“W-what?!” Blushing, Nathaniel peered closer at the last one for Kip to point out and he nearly choked as he realised who it was. Brent Butcherson, made up and studly in the latest fish-scale print, square-cut swim trunks. “A-are you  _ kidding  _ me?!” Nathaniel squeaked, exasperated. “I can’t even have  _ one day _ …”

 

“Forget about him, Nathaniel,” Kip sighed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the bannister. “There’ll be plenty of other days to perve on Brent’s abs; we’re here to shop.”

 

“I-I wasn’t-!” Immediately going red in the face, a flustered Nathaniel allowed his friend to drag him over to the escalator, which they rode all the way up to the very top floor of the shopping centre.

 

The store, kitted out in slick, black, mirrored tile, had its name spelt out in white neon cursive:  _ La Protagoniste _ . Beneath it, in thin capitals, the tagline read ‘OUTFITTING CHARACTERS SINCE 1993’. The shorter boy stared up at it uncertainly before Kip pushed him through the entrance and past a bunch of leather corsets and black pants smothered in straps and zippers on the Vampire Clearance rack (“Lestat™ Cravats, half price!”).

 

“I don’t know about this, Kip,” Nathaniel said nervously, looking around. “I don’t think I should be here.”

 

Over by the register, a plainly-dressed brunet man was causing a small scene. “Just  _ take it, _ ” he implored the shop clerk, thrusting a wad of bills at her. “It’s legal tender!”

 

The shop clerk regarded him coolly over the top of her frosted lipstick, hooking a snow-white curl of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sir,” she drawled, folding her arms. “We don’t accept cash or credit on premises. La Protagoniste is a concept-driven store. Please explain your means justification into this microphone,” she gestured to a little device on the counter which looked similar to a tap-n-go pay card terminal.

 

The man practically clawed his fingernails down his cheeks. “Money  _ is _ means,” he urged, sounding like he was in logical pain.

 

“Security,” the woman raised her voice. Nathaniel’s face flushed as he watched a man in black come over and escort the man out of the store. He’d  _ die _ of embarrassment if that happened to him!

 

“Please,” Kip scoffed. “A tragic little orphan with an aunt who has racks full of designer clothes? You must be sitting on a trust fund the size of a mountain. That’s plenty of ‘means’.”

 

“Th-that’s to pay for my rent and food and stuff, not clothes!” Nathaniel explained hastily. “I’m not even sure how much it is. Aunt Marjorie looks after it for me until I turn eighteen.”

 

“Well, at least someone like her probably won’t steal it from you,” Kip shrugged, nudging the Japanese boy in the shoulder. “Come on, lighten up and pick something out. They have stuff here that you can’t get anywhere else. Look: a whole rack of spiked belts that can hold a wallet, lube, poison knives  _ and _ they come with free arm bandages to hide your curse tattoos from the wizard who murdered your royal family and blamed you for it.”

 

“... I don’t think I need any of that,” Nathaniel said after a moment, skittering deeper into the store. There seemed to be a lot of shelves that didn’t apply much to him at all, not to mention bunch of  _ really _ short frilly kimono dresses with shoulderless sleeves held up by elastic which made him feel kind of uncomfortable. 

 

After some more browsing, he finally found something he liked - a cut-out top made of a thick, stretch material. With one thick band wrapping around the mannequin’s pecs, several thinner bands were attached the the vertical striped at the front, leaving patches of exposed skin in a crude allusion to ribs. Despite being so clingy, the XS size seemed to be cut small enough for his waifish frame, almost as if it was made exactly for him.

 

“Oh my god, Nathaniel, look what I found in the prep section.” Kip found him still hemming and hawing over the black top. He was holding a crop-cut, bear-eared hoodie with the word “Queen” written across the front in rainbow holographic cursive. “I’m getting it,” Kip said confidently. “It’s hilarious. What did you find?”

 

“Uhm,” Nathaniel picked up the top weakly. “This. I don’t know if I can um, afford it, conceptually, though.” He stammered. 

 

“You worry too much. Just give it a shot,” his taller friend gave him a push towards the register.

 

Nathaniel approached her somewhat nervously, placing the garment down with a demure gaze up at her statuesque face. “Uhm, just this one, please,” he said quietly.

 

She seemed to look him up and down approvingly. “Certainly,” she smiled and folded the shirt up before sliding it into a bag. “If you could just explain your means into the microphone.”

 

Being so short, Nathaniel was already more or less mouth-level with the microphone panel set into the little device, so he didn’t have to stoop. “Uhm,” he said, blushing. “My parents died in a tragic accident, so they left me everything in a trust fund. So I have a lot of money, technically.” He felt stupid saying it out loud.

 

On the device, the middle of three lights lit up yellow with an unimpressed beep.

 

“Hmm, it doesn’t usually register a partial,” The woman raised an albino eyebrow before returning her attention to the delicate waif who was rapidly turning pink in the cheeks. “Did you leave some details out, sweetie? Are you sure it’s a trust fund and not that you’re secretly a prince of a lost kingdom or the world’s youngest CEO or something?”

 

“N-no,” Nathaniel’s head gave a little shake, making his curls bounce. “That’s all there is to it, really!”

 

“Well I’m sorry; you really look like you have the right stuff, you know, but I have to go by what the machine says.” The woman gave an apologetic shrug, nodding towards Nathaniel’s already eclectic outfit.

 

“It’s okay, I’ve got this,” Kip stepped in, placing his hoodie on top of the shopping bag. He rested on elbow on the counter as he leaned down with cocky airs. “Uhm, my family has been in the Yacht Club for  _ four _ generations,” he drawled. “We own  _ nine _ vessels and every year we holiday in the Carribean.”

 

The rightmost light on the machine immediately flashed green with a happy chime. Kip flashed Nathaniel a winning grin as the shop clerk added his hoodie to the bag and and handed it to him. 

 

“Wow, Kip!” Nathaniel exclaimed. “I didn’t know your family had so many boats!”   
  
“I don’t like to talk about it much,” Kip grimaced, running a hand down his face. “My folks can be a little crazy about the whole sailing thing.”

 

“Well, thanks,” Nathaniel said quietly, ducking his head as they walked out of the store. “That was so embarrassing! Maybe that trust fund isn’t enough money to shop there after all.”

 

“I’m sure it was just a glitch in the machine or whatever,” Kip waved a hand as they hopped onto a downwards escalator. “Hey, why don’t you text Dudley and see if he’s ready to meet up for lunch in the food court? I have to duck into the salon to book a cut and colour for next weekend, but I can meet up with you next to the frozen yoghurt place.”

 

“Oh, okay!” The boy nodded as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Kip broke away once they got to the foot of the escalator, so Nathaniel carefully walked along, trying to tap out a polite message to his best friend without dropping his swatch book from Fabric Fixation. As he passed a corridor leading off to the toilet, a strong hand suddenly reached out and yanked him inside. Nathaniel tried to scream but another hand clapped over his mouth. It was all he could do to hug the stuff he was carrying to his chest so he didn’t drop his phone. 

 

“Mmmf!” He grunted in protest, thrashing in protest as his abductor dragged his lightweight body further down the corridor. After a few more feet, the attacker stopped, and Nathaniel whipped around with flushed cheeks as he realised he was laughing at him. Whatever he was going to say was erased by a gasp as he saw who it was.

 

“B-Brett?!”


	11. Nathaniel's New Wardrobe

“It’s Brent,” Brent glowered down at the boy, his features broodily chiseled by a mix of contour and illuminator.

 

“W-well you can’t expect me to- I mean, you just  _ grabbed _ me,” Nathaniel stuttered, clutching at his chest. His heart was positively pounding. He slumped against the wall with a sigh, letting his swatch book drop by his feet. “How did you even  _ find me _ ?” he asked incredulously.

 

“I saw you looking down from the bannister. Pizza Face sticks out with that hair of his,” Brent stuck out his chin with grin.

 

Nathaniel pouted and crossed his arms. “You shouldn’t call him that,” he scolded. “Kip is my friend, plus it doesn’t even make sense. His freckles are  _ tiny _ .”

 

“Then you’re either way too nice or genuinely blind,” Brent sniggered, stooping to pick up the swatch book out of curiousity. Flipping through the pages, he quirked his eyebrows down at the shorter boy. “Are these all for that ridiculous play? You’re moving pretty fast.”

 

“It’s not ridiculous,” Nathaniel fumed, reaching for it. Naturally, Brent held it up above his head with one hand, far out of the petite boy’s reach. Laughing, he pushed against Nathaniel’s forehead with his other hand. 

 

“Brent! Give it!” The boy complained. 

 

“What’s the magic word?” Brent teased.

 

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Please,” he snapped. All he got was a rap on the top of the head with the spine of the book. “ _ Ow!” _

 

“Make it cuter,” Brent scoffed expectantly, though the corners of his lips were twitching upwards with a smirk.

 

Rubbing at the top of his head with his fingertips, Nathaniel’s bottom lip trembled. Trust stupid Brent to whip him up into a frenzy like this. His cerulean eyes threatening to spill over, he gave a furious sniff at how unfair it all was. “If you give me back my book…” he mumbled quietly, frowning. “I’ll let you feed me my medicine today.”

 

That got the model’s attention. “You didn’t take it already?” he asked keenly, leaning forward. “It’s past noon.”

 

Was it? Nathaniel started a little at the news; he was supposed to have taken them by now. “I-I knew that,” he lied, looking away. “I was just waiting until I got a drink at the food court.”

 

“You’ve dry-swallowed them every time until now.” Brent said skeptically, jiggling the thick swatch book above Nathaniel’s head. “I call bullshit.”

 

Silently, Nathaniel cursed Brent’s keen observation skills. It only took half a beat before his own paranoia about not taking his pills kicked in. “Fine,” he huffed, hastily pulling the baggie out from the back pocket of his shorts and handing it over. He watched with disdain as the smirking model tipped the pills on to his palm, considering them for a moment.

 

“C-come on, Brent,” Nathaniel urged him anxiously, leaning forward. “I should have taken them by now.” 

 

Laughing, the muscular teen ran his tongue along his bottom lip. Nathaniel watched, perplexed, then nearly choked when Brent pressed the two pills against the damp skin so they stuck there.

 

“Y-you can’t be serious!” he spluttered, going red in the face. 

 

Brent just gave an open-mouthed smile and tapped his fingers against the back of his wrist, leaning down.

 

What an asshole! Blushing furiously, Nathaniel looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking down the hallway before he quickly rose up on his tip-toes and ate the pills from Brent’s lip. He pulled away quickly and swallowed with a grimace, barely having time to take a breath before Brent’s hands seized his earlobes and pulled him back for a kiss. Squeaking helplessly into the boy’s mouth, Nathaniel struggled for a moment before he felt Brent’s tongue tease his soft lips. Whimpering, his shoulders slumped, his thin wrists held tight by the swimmer’s strong hands as he pulled him closer.

 

Feeling light-headed, Nathaniel looked past Brent’s left ear with tears glistening in his eyes and had a little think about his life. Why was this happening to him? What was he supposed to do, kiss him back? How was he going to convince Chad not to veto any of his costume designs? Why did Brent’s tongue feel so  _ tingly _ against his own? He hadn’t even realised he was doing that! Yelping, he began to struggle again, gasping as Brent finally let him break away.

 

“That medicine tastes like shit,” Brent commented crudely as he straightened up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Nathaniel needed a moment to catch his breath. 

 

“Why are you  _ like _ this, Brent?” Nathaniel asked finally, a deep furrow in his brow as he wiped his own mouth.

 

Brent clicked his tongue, placing one hand on his hip as he flicked Nathaniel on the nose. “I’m not ‘like’ anything, princess, and don’t you forget it,” he sneered. “Don’t forget your stupid book.” He scoffed and kicked the book, which had fallen to the floor, closer to the Japanese boy’s feet before he turned and sauntered away.

 

“Ow!” Nathaniel scrunched up his delicate features before he picked up his swatch book with a huff. Sighing, he straightened out the fabric samples before he hugged it to his chest again. What a day; it was barely halfway over and he’d already had more upsets than he could count. This couldn’t be good for his heart.

 

Taking things nice and slow as he made his way to the mall’s food court, thankfully the most eventful thing that happened was his cell phone ringing. Nathaniel fished it out of his pocket and raised his eyebrows as he looked at the screen and saw Dudley’s freckled face grinning back at him. He couldn’t even remember how long ago he’d saved that snap into his contacts. Dudley certainly didn’t sound as happy as his photo looked when Nathaniel answered the call.

 

“H-hey Natha-iel,” Dudley’s voice crackled through the speaker at an erratic volume.

 

“Dudley?” Nathaniel squinted as he walked along with his phone. “Where  _ are _ you? You’re breaking up really bad. Are you on the basement level?”

 

“I just had…  _ krrrktt…  _ do some stuff. Going through some -  _ zzzztt -  _ right now so I  _ chkrrrzt _ ... bail.”

 

“B-bail?” Natahaniel repeated with an incredulous stutter. “You mean you’ve already gone home? Why didn’t you text us? We were worried about you!”

 

“I can’t expl- _ zzzzt _ … -ee you at schoo- -omorrow, okay?  _ Click _ .”

 

“Hey! Wait!” But Dudley had already hung up on him. Fuming, Nathaniel practically stabbed his phone’s screen to redial Dudley’s number but the call wouldn’t connect. Stifling a frustrated scream because he was in public, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and started power-striding along the glossy mall tiles. So much for relaxation! What had gotten into his red-headed friend lately?! Kip was right, he was being  _ weird _ lately, but what the heck was Nathaniel supposed to do about it if he was just going to run away without even saying two words about it?

 

“Hey, Nathaniel!” Kip waved him over from the small table he’d secured at the edge of the food court. 

 

“Dudley ditched us!” Nathaniel snapped by way of greeting, sitting down opposite his last remaining friend with a  _ harrumph _ . “He just called me out of the blue and said he was already gone. This isn’t like him at all!”

 

“So what about that?” Kip shrugged. “I already told you how I feel about that.”

 

“I  _ know, _ but I’m  _ worried _ , Kip!” Nathaniel carried on with a pout, leaning his elbows on the edge of the table as he cradled his chin in his hands. “He sounded really weird, like his voice was really rough. The signal kept cutting in and out and everything.”

 

“Did the Grudge reach out of the phone and grab you?” Kip asked pointedly, nodding down at his friend’s wrists.

 

Blinking, Nathaniel straightened up and looked down at his wrists. Golden-brown fingerprints marked the pale skin there as though he’d been grabbed by a Southern Californian ghost. “What?” he said softly to himself as he rubbed at some of it with a finger. It smeared a little but otherwise stayed put, the smell somewhat familiar.

 

“It looks like… fake tan.” Kip squinted down at it curiously. Nathaniel’s cheeks immediately burst into flame.

 

“Butcherson!” he snarled, pounding his little fists on the table. Hastily reaching for a napkin from the dispenser, he tried to get it off. “Oh god, is any on my face?”

 

“Was  _ Brent  _ on your face?!” Kip asked loudly, barely containing his glee as he leaned really close over the top of the table.

 

“ _ No _ !” Nathaniel denied stoutly, perhaps a little too quickly.

 

“ _ Ooooooh _ ,” Kip sat back with a salacious grin. “I called it,” he turned to a set of invisible companions on either side of him. “I said he wanted to do him. Here, congratulations, have a smoothie.” He pushed one of the two covered cups he’d been looking after across the table. 

 

“I-I didn’t ‘do’ him!” Nathaniel spluttered. “It was only a kiss and it just sort of happened, okay? It’s no big deal.” Blushing, he practically tried to shrink behind the cup as he pinched the straw and took a sip. Banana. “...Thank you,” he added softly, pouting.

 

“I’ve got the hook up, apparently,” Kip boasted, inspecting his fingernails with a cocky grin. “My hairdresser gave me this for you, too. I sure as hell don’t need it, but I brought you up because I wondered if she could cut Asian hair as well as black hair and she said she could give it a shot but you should try this if you want to keep your hair long.”

 

Kip pushed a tiny plastic bottle across the food court table. It was about half the size of a salt shaker, but bright red. Curious, Nathaniel picked it up and read the label. “Texturizing powder?” he repeated with raised eyebrows.

 

“I bet you can wreak some hair havoc with that stuff. You get a lot of volume already, but I was telling Trisha how you were pretty experimental, and she said you should give this a shot.”

 

“Who?” Nathaniel blinked.

 

“Trisha, my hairdresser.” Kip explained with an incredulous grin. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

“I… guess,” Nathaniel gave a guilty smile and an awkward shrug. He picked up his smoothie and took another sip, but he was plagued by the terrible feeling that he was forgetting something. “Oh! Um, tell Trisha I said thank you! You know, next time you see her. I’ve never gotten a present from someone I’ve never met before.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Kip smiled, “I think it was a commercial sample or something. Not like she’s gonna move much texturizing product from a black hair salon anyway.”

 

“I guess not,” Nathaniel answered politely. He felt like he didn’t know much about the subject, so he took Kip’s word for it. He pocketed the powder bottle and held his smoothie cup with both hands. “So what are you going to do with your hair? Just get it coloured, or are you getting it cut, too?”

 

“Well, I’ll get it braided different, sure,” Kip mused, leaning back in his chair as he ran his fingers along the grooves between the braids on one side of his head. “Probably both sides this time, maybe even some bantu knots if Trisha thinks it’s a good idea. I have to think about the photo shoot for this necklace I’m making, too. Don’t tell my parents, but that’s the real reason I agreed to dye my hair black.”

 

“You’re modeling your own piece?” Nathaniel perked up, leaning forward.

 

“Of course,” Kip scoffed. “I’m not letting someone else steal my limelight!”

 

The afternoon continued in much the same vein as this fashionable discussion; the boys finished their smoothies, hit up a few more clothing stores (ones that took money, this time) and made plans about their future looks peppered with not-so-subtle suggestions about Nathaniel’s love life. They bought glitter nail polish from the drug store and Kip told the cashier to go fuck himself when he asked if boys should be buying that stuff. Fueled by the indescribable adrenalin of tiny rebellion, that was when they decided to leave the Super Outlet Megamall like wanted criminals with no pursuers. 

 

By the time Nathaniel got home to Aunt Marjorie’s apartment, he was exhausted and had forgotten all about the upsets of that afternoon. Laying out his purchases on his bed, he stripped off and took a nice, long shower, grateful to be back in his own space once more. 

 

After blow drying his hair, Nathaniel wandered over to his dresser (he’d once spent an entire Saturday painting it black and lining holographic star stickers around the edge of the mirror) and picked up the bottle of texturizing powder that Kip had give him. He supposed he should really do a practice run now instead of the morning before school; otherwise he might end up with a Bride-of-Frankenstein hairstyle and no outfit to go with it. He turned it over and peered at the instructions.

 

“Shake directly onto hair, comb through and scrunch for bodacious volume,” Nathaniel read aloud. Bodacious? Wow, maybe it really was a commercial sampler from the ancient 80s. The primary ingredient was silica, however, and Nathaniel was pretty sure that didn’t have an expiration date. He popped the cap and held it over his head, watching in the mirror as he tipped the bottle and lightly tapped the bottom with one finger. Nothing. He tapped again with the same result, looking up to see if there was extra seal or something.

 

That was a mistake.

 

“Arrrgh!” Nathaniel screamed in pain, dropping the bottle and clawing at the eye that had just been assaulted with silica powder. It felt just like sand! Sobbing as he pressed his palm against his eye to keep it shut, he staggered, half-blind back into his en suite bathroom to flush it with water. After about five flushes, he could keep his eyes open without blinking ten times a second. Snivelling, he stared back at his expression with a whine at the sight of his terribly inflamed eye. Something about it seemed to throw his whole face off-balance, like the room was tipping five degrees really slowly. 

 

Whimpering loudly to himself, he ran the faucet again and splashed more water on his face to wash away more snot and tears, straightening up as he heard a quiet beep. Was it a message on his phone? Hugging his soft towel to his face as he wandered back into his bedroom, the sulking boy picked up his phone but found the notifications empty. He threw it back onto his bed and turned around to punt the fallen powder bottle clean across the room. He screamed when instead of hitting the wall, it sailed through a doorway that had never been there before. 

 

On the other side his bathroom door, it opened up into a space that he had always assumed had belonged to a neighbouring apartment. With his bottom lip trembling, the Japanese boy ventured closer, lingering in the doorway as he thrust one thin arm into the dimly lit space and felt around for a light switch. He gave a gasp as he found one and flicked it on, illuminating… clothes! Just like Aunt Marjorie’s room, this place was packed full of fashion, but unlike his Aunt’s couture dresses and négligées, all of these seemed to be his size. Was it… a secret closet? Had this always been here? Nathaniel wondered if something about his heart operation had made him forget. Admittedly a lot of the stuff here wouldn’t be his first choice when it came to his personal style, he had to admit they were pretty interesting. He almost felt bad about buying more stuff at the Megamall when he had been sitting on a dragon’s hoard of fabric this whole time.

 

Biting his lip, Nathaniel fingered a faux fur jacket curiously before stepping further into the room to look at all of his newly discovered things. Racks of jackets, shelves of shoes, shorts and shirts - even some suits, which surprised him, because he was only a highschooler and he had never been to a funeral since his mother’s as a child. Laughing softly to himself, he inspected a small table that was home to some patterned silk scarves.

 

On one handkerchief, crumpled and spread out upon the table’s surface, was a message written messily in red eyeliner.

 

_ DON’T TRUST ANYONE YOU REMEMBER _ , it read.

 

Nathaniel stared at it for the longest moment, a furrow in his little brow before he turned on his heel with a stiff spine. “Nope,” he voiced aloud, pursing his lips after every syllable. “Nope, nope, nope.”

 

Nathaniel changed into some pyjamas with bears on them and went to bed.


	12. Nathaniel's New Eye

“Whoa, what’s up, Aeon Flux?” 

 

Nathaniel, who was very upset that morning for a variety of reasons, sniffed and turned away from Kip with a pout. Due to their homeroom seating plan, however, this brought him face with Brent Butcherson, who was staring at him intently, so he turned back to Kip again. 

 

Nathaniel was wearing his new top from  _ La Protagoniste _ , with metallic purple legging and combat boots, to boot. His hair was very much  _ not _ volumised, instead flat-ironed with a thick fringe obscuring one eye, and for good reason, too. He’d almost screamed and stabbed himself in the eye that morning when he realised why one eye wasn’t ‘popping’ as much as the other with the black eyeliner applied. Just what was  _ in _ that powder, anyway?!

 

“You’re too quiet,” Brent groused, butting into their one sided conversation and reaching for Nathaniel’s face with one tanned hand. “You usually never shut up.”

 

Nathaniel, who had very good reflexes even when his hair obscured his peripheral vision, blanched away from the incoming touch and clapped a hand defensively over his fringe. “ _ Don’t _ , Brent!” he yelped in complaint, leaning back in his seat so he would hopefully be out of reach.

 

“I don’t like it when you cover your face,” Brent grumbled with a challenging squint. “That shit is getting way too long, anyway. You look more like a girl than ever.”

 

“I’m not a girl,” Nathaniel scowled, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

 

“Just a goth,” Kip grinned over his shoulder. 

 

“...Sometimes.” Nathaniel conceded sulkily, using his fingers to smooth out his hair. 

 

“So did you want to come with me to see Trisha after school? She could probably do your cut while the dye is in my hair. My parents are driving, so it’ll be a lot faster than the bus.” Kip offered.

 

“I can’t,” Nathaniel sighed, shaking his head. “I’d love to, but I have my doctor’s appointment after school. Aunt Marjorie orders a taxi for me and everything to make sure I get there, so I can’t exactly brush it off.”

 

“Yikes, that sounds important. Don’t worry; we can go another time. Trisha’s not going anywhere, and I don’t want you to have a heart attack or something before you get to see my new hairstyle,“ Kip quipped.

 

“Me neither,” Nathaniel laughed uneasily. 

 

“You gonna refill your prescription, then?” Brent asked with a knowing smirk. Blushing, Nathaniel ignored him. When the class bell rang and students filtered out of the room, however, a strong hand caught his wrist as he rose to leave. There was always a slim chance it could be Weird Dan, but Nathaniel had seen him that morning, tied to the flagpole and looking very sickly, wearing a crown of thorns fashioned out of bobby pins. With a whimper of resignation he turned and bumped into Brent’s broad chest, his fringe already flipped aside before he could even open his mouth to protest.

 

“Ho-ly shit,” Brent swore, a disbelieving grin spreading across his face as he stared down into Nathaniel’s eyes. “What the fuck is that?”

 

Nathaniel’s eyes teared up, probably looking even worse than usual. His big, blue eyes weren’t so blue any more; or at least, one of them wasn’t. Something in that volumising powder had made one of his eyes go brown. He should have known he wouldn’t have been able to cover it up for more than fifteen minutes.

 

“Is that a contact?” Brent asked quizzically, leaning closer.

 

“No,” Nathaniel sniffed, looking up to the ceiling and blinking quickly in a desperate bid to keep his eyeliner from smudging. “I don’t know what it is! I just woke up like this. I… I need to ask my doctor about it, I guess.” He could feel his voice wavering even as he said it. The smaller boy blinked in surprise as the swimmer patted him on the shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry,” Brent said kindly. “I’d still fuck you.”

 

“B-Brent!” Nathaniel spluttered, indignant. “W-what is it with you?! Now isn’t the time!”

 

“Haha, oh man, are you kidding me? I think about it  _ all _ the time. Here, give me your hand, I’ll show you what I’d do to your cock,“ Brent laughed, sticking out his tongue.

 

Nathaniel squealed and yanked his hand free before his fingertips could touch Brent’s tongue. “I have to go to class!” he said hastily, scooping up his book bag and all but running towards the door.

 

“It did distract you from the eye,” Brent called after him airily, his chuckles following the flustered waif out into the hall. Nathaniel did his best to avoid eye contact with anyone else as he made his way to Math class. 

 

Even after a full period of learning equations, he still couldn’t shake the swimmer’s lewd thoughts out of his head. Just what was Brent planning to do to his hand? Why was he such a confusing, hot, stupid jerk? Taking a sharp detour into the boy’s restroom, Nathaniel sighed and pushed his fringe aside to splash some water on his face. He bolted upright when a hacking cough reverberated around the bathroom. 

 

Weird Dan was hunched over the sink at the other end of the counter, spitting up something black that left streaks running down from the corners of his mouth. He turned his head and regarded Nathaniel from the pits of his heavily painted eye sockets, his gaze freezing the smaller boy on the spot.

 

“Uhm, h-hi Dan,” Nathaniel said nervously, hastily reaching behind himself for a paper towel to dry his face. 

 

Weird Dan’s grizzled expression suddenly broke out into a maniacal grin. “It’s all hopeless,” he grinned, his teeth stained blue-black. “I tried so hard to make this a purgatory, but it’s really just a hell, isn’t it? Nothing I can do will stop it.”

 

Nathaniel wasn’t sure how he was meant to respond. Hooking his fringe behind his ear, he took a cautious step forward and peeked into the sink. It was all blue-black, kind of like the classroom sink after drawing class, or like Weird Dan had chewed a ballpoint pen right down to the core and thrown it all back up again. Had he really been drinking ink or was it some kind of special stage makeup?

 

“What do you mean, it’s hell? Do you mean like… highschool?” The smaller boy tried cautiously. When he reached out to touch Weird Dan’s shoulder, the method actor slapped it away with a snarl.

 

“Don’t touch me. I hate you,” he snapped, twitching as he thrashed his head and froze, staring at himself in the mirror. “Haha,” chuckled, his green eyes darting between his reflection and Nathaniel’s face. “Don’t hurt me. I won’t forget, I promise. Just had to take care of a little something. Take care of a little something. It won’t hurt. I promise.” Pushing off the tiled wall, the haggard drama student raked his fingers through his hair as he staggered out of the bathroom.

 

Nathaniel was left standing alone in the bathroom with the weird kind of floaty feeling that some people got after going to the theatre or seeing a particularly gripping film. One thing was for sure, Weird Dan’s private pop-up theatre-for-one had done wonders to take Nathaniel’s mind off his silly boy troubles. 

 

Blinking piously at his own reflection in the mirror, the half-Japanese boy fixed his fringe back over his eye and looked down at the dramatic mess that Weird Dan had left in the sink. The boy’s commitment to his craft had him in an odd state of awe, to say the least. He wondered if he’d ever have the guts to act, let alone the extreme character pieces that Weird Dan seemed to play. Was this stuff even really ink, or was it like a food dye? Curiously, he reached out with one quivering fingertip, wondering what it tasted like. 

 

“Nathaniel? Hey, buddy!”

 

Nathaniel jumped as Dudley stuck his freckled face around the corner of the tiles wall. Suddenly flooded with the feeling that he was almost caught doing something really dirty, he went red in the face and shrank away from the stained sink as though it was contagious. 

 

“D-dudley?” he spluttered. 

 

“What are you waiting around here for?” Dudley asked with a beaming smile. “We saved you some carrot sticks in the cafeteria. Come on,” He looped a lanky arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders, gently guiding him out into the hall where they walked together like they were the best of friends.

 

Nathaniel wasn’t sure what to make of Dudley’s sudden shift away from yesterday’s sullen attitude. “Uhm, Dudley?” he asked tentatively. “Are you feeling okay?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Dudley’s beaming grin rippled with reluctant embarrassment. “Sorry about yesterday. I kind of let things get out of hand. I think I ate something funny the night before.”

 

“Huh?” Nathaniel blinked.

 

“I was kind of locked up in the bathroom most of the day,” Dudley elaborated with an uneasy hand gesture. 

 

“Oh. Oh!” Nathaniel raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips together as he very politely skirted around the issue as per his Japanese manners. “Okay. Uhm, we just won’t order from that pizza place again. Yeah! That seems like a good idea,” he gave a quick little nod to himself as he considered the issue with the delivery man. 

 

In the cafeteria, someone else was already talking to Kip, although he didn’t seem too happy about it. Nathaniel guessed he was in one of Kip’s jewelry classes - not because he had a bright, turquoise coif to complement Kip’s purple hair, but because he was basically shoving a piece of jewelry in Kip’s face for inspection.

 

“So what do you think?” The boy asked urgently, licking his lips as he kept his eyes fixed on Kip’s face for any sign of approval.

 

Kip clicked his tongue and used one dark hand to push the offending bracelet out of his personal space. “Look, it’s well made, alright, I just don’t like the subject matter,” he groused. “Can you buzz off now, River? Hey Nathaniel,” Kip changed the direction of his speech rather pointedly.

 

“Hi, Kip.” Nathaniel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Kip so annoyed by someone who wasn’t Dudley. He looked down at the bracelet; a set of double silver chains linked to an intricate lattice pendant featuring a dolphin, although the border was rather jagged. It wasn’t his style personally, but it was very pretty. Nathaniel didn’t know enough about making jewelry to be able to tell if it was well made.

 

“It’s  _ important _ , Kip,” River pouted, staying put. “My parents are making me do something environmental for my statement piece. If  _ you _ think it’s a good idea, I’m bound to get an A!”

 

“Then do a tree or something, I don’t know!” Kip snapped.

 

“ _ Ugh _ ,” River threw back his head and shoulders as he rolled his eyes. “My tree-hugging parents have those plastered all over the place. It’s so  _ overdone _ .”

 

“Well I think  _ dolphins  _ are overdone!”

 

Nathaniel sat down and took one of his carrot sticks from his tray, preferring to stay out of the argument. Glancing over at Dudley, who was happily stuffing his face with a ham sandwich, wondering if he was going to have a normal school day for once (or at least, as ‘normal’ as was… normal, for him). 

 

“Hey, ‘Nafashion’, right?,” River sniffed, looking the waif up and down. “You’re Japanese, right? You know anything about whaling?”

 

“Uhmmm...” Nathaniel grimaced uncomfortably.

 

“River!” Kip barked, his dark eyes flashing with warning. 

 

“What?” the blue-haired rounded back on the taller boy. “Don’t act like it’s not a thing!”

 

“Well go read a damn book about it in the library or something, stop bothering us before I decide to tell Ryan Nesbitt you engraved your initials together on one of the desks.”

 

As River gave a dramatic gasp of betrayal, Nathaniel hastily chowed down on his carrots while he still had the chance. He was not ignored for long.

 

“Nathaniel! My sweet flower!” A warm, rich voice rang across the cafeteria. Looking up with raised eyebrows, Nathaniel nearly dropped the carrot stick from his mouth when he saw Stavros Enrique Xavier jogging towards him. The drama prefect didn’t stop until he was right in front of them, taking one of the Japanese boy’s hands in both of his own. “I have fantastic news! Come quickly!”

 

“Huh?” Nathaniel got a single sound out before he was bodily yanked out of his seat and stumbling down the aisle of cafeteria tables. Looking helplessly over his shoulder at his friends who were growing farther and farther away, he looked back at Stavros with a frown as he struggled to keep up and swallow his mouthful of carrot at the same time.

 

“S-stavros!” Nathaniel cried. “Where are we going?”

 

“The drama room, of course!” Stavros said suavely over his shoulder. “Something so wonderful has happened that it simply can’t wait until the beginning of the lesson.”

 

“I can’t yet!” the boy complained. “I need to get my swatch book and my costume designs... a-and my medicine!”

 

“Very well!” Stavros’ shined shoes took a sharp turn down the hall towards the freshman lockers.

 

“W-wait!” Nathaniel stammered, but it was too late. He could already see Brent Butcherson leaning against their lockers with his arms folded across his broad, muscular chest, and Nathaniel wasn’t strong enough to pull free from Stavros’ insistent grip. Maybe it was a good thing that he was about to take his medicine, because he could already feel his heart hammering in his chest with how awkward this was going to be.


	13. Nathaniel and the Love Triangle

Brent’s reaction was immediate; as he looked up to the sound of Stavros elegantly charging towards him and saw that he had Nathaniel in tow, his annoyed expression intensified, forming a furrow in his clean-cut visage.

 

“Ah, yes, the infamous B,” Stavros said brightly, looking not at Brent, but at the mark spray-painted mark on Nathaniel’s locker that was partially obscured by the swimmer’s broad shoulders. “Move please,” he informed the swimmer neatly, barely sparing him a glance. “My star pupil needs to collect his things.”

 

“H-hi Brent,” Nathaniel stammered, finally pulling his wrist free from Stavros’ rip. He rubbed the skin self-consciously, his face burning as he felt Brent’s steely blue eyes slide over him and back to the drama prefect, sizing up the situation.  

 

“Nathaniel, why is this creep touching you?” Brent asked flatly, not budging an inch. Since they both stood at a fairly even height, Brent had to tip his head back slightly so he could manage to look down his nose at the other.

 

“I’m sorry?!” Stavros’ usual smooth purr rose in pitch to match his raised eyebrows. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with frost. “Who are you, exactly?”

 

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Brent scoffed. “You’ve probably wanked over one of my catalogues. Anyway, I wasn’t talking to you,” Jeering at the dark-haired boy as though he were wearing a burlap sack instead of a tastefully co-ordinated two-piece casual suit, Brent pushed his weight off the locker and stepped forward to loom over Nathaniel, who looked up nervously but tried his best to play it cool since it didn’t  _ seem _ like he was in trouble just yet.

 

“Is this guy bothering you?” Brent asked again, placing his hands on Nathaniel’s shoulders.

 

Nathaniel hesitated. “Uhm… no,” he replied with a hum, glancing over at Stavros. “He’s the Drama Prefect. I take Drama Production, you know… I’m making the costumes for the play.” He ducked his head, hooking a piece of hair behind his ear. He always felt like he was about to get in  _ trouble  _ when Brent stood over him like that. “But I… I’m not sure why it’s such an emergency that we have to skip part of lunch to go see something?” His voice rose in pitch at the end of his sentence as he slid an uncertain look in Stavros’ direction.

 

Brent straightened up, eyes narrowed. When he turned to glare at Stavros over his shoulder, Nathaniel winced as his shoulders were squeezed hard. “What are you playing at, Enrique?” Brent growled. 

 

“You must be mistaken,” Stavros purred in reply with an effortless smile, splaying his fingertips across his own chest. “My first name is Stavros, and-”

 

“Sure it is,” Brent shot back sarcastically. “I’m surprised you didn’t pick out something more fitting with the same effect. ‘Sleaze’ would have worked just fine; probably more descriptive, too.”

 

“Oh, but I am not doing anything ‘sleazy’ with him at all,” Stavros said airily, skirting around Brent to stand behind Nathaniel. Nathaniel flinched slightly as warm hands cupped the spaces of bare skin his cut-out shirt left on his upper arms. “As Prefect of Drama  _ and _ acting class guidance in the tragic absence of our esteemed, semi-cyberkinetic lupine drama teacher, it is my  _ duty _ to nurture this flower so that he may reach the  _ fullest _ of his potential.”

 

If Stavros was getting a thrill out of running his thumb down the back of his funny bone, Nathaniel sure wasn’t! He squirmed despite himself, staring up at Brent with pleading eyes from behind the silky veil of his emo fringe. He felt more like a specimen under a microscope than a star pupil, especially when he was stuck between the two of them. He was too shy for this!

 

“C-can you stop touching me please...” Nathaniel whimpered, feeling faint as all his blood seemed to rush to his face. 

 

“Let him go,” Brent said sharply.

 

Stavros clicked his tongue. “I would never hurt him. Of course, I don’t expect a brute like you would understand.”

 

“What did you call me?!” Brent snarled. He took his hands off Nathaniel to yank Stavros forward by his lapels instead. Squeaking, the smaller boy managed to wriggle away, spinning around, mouth agape, to take in the scuffle between the two boys. 

 

“This is silk!” Stavros barked indignantly, grimacing as Brent tightened his grip and his heels left the ground.

 

“B-Brent!” Nathaniel cried, reaching up with small hands to try to stop the violence, which was wrong. “Stop it! You’ll get it trouble!”

 

“He’s a fucking creep, Nathaniel!” the swimmer snapped down at him, irate. “He’ll try something first chance he gets.”

 

“He won’t! He just runs my class! Please, just let him go - what if you get detention or something?” Nathaniel whined, tugging at the swimmer’s beefy elbow. 

 

With an angry sigh, Brent released the other boy and pushed him away sharply, turning on his heel so his body shielded Nathaniel’s locker from view.

 

“ _ Lovely _ ,” Stavros enthused sarcastically as he smoothed down the front of his jacket. He kept on furtive eye on Brent’s back as he turned to the smaller, Japanese boy. “Now, my prized flowe-”

 

“ _ Fuck off _ , Enrique,” Brent raised his voice over the top of the boy as he turned the combination dial on Nathaniel’s locker. “He’ll meet you in class.”

 

Stavros clicked his tongue but otherwise held it as his eyes swept over Brent’s bulging biceps. With a final stroke along one of Nathaniel’s exposed shoulders, he swivelled fluidly on one foot and took his leave off down the hall. Nathaniel watched him go uncertainly. He guessed he’d meet up with him in the auditorium later, after he had taken his medicine. Honestly, he was almost relieved things had worked out the way they did - this way, Stavros wouldn’t see him taking his medicine. 

 

Turning back to Brent, Nathaniel raised his eyebrows as his locker door swung open.

 

“You know my combination?” he asked incredulously. 

 

“It’s not hard,” Brent shrugged as he took Nathaniel’s swatch book out and handed it to him. “You’ve opened your locker in front of me.”

 

“Yeah, but like… once!” Nathaniel pouted, hugging the wad of fabric to his chest.

 

“Yeah, it’s not that hard,” the blond repeated disdainfully. “You just have to keep your eyes open instead of being so damn oblivious all of the time.” He took the orange bottle of pills off the top shelf of Nathaniel’s locker and untwisted the cap.

 

“W-wait, didn’t you still have those?” Nathaniel blinked. “What are they doing in my locker?”

 

“Maybe you’re not completely oblivious, then,” Brent gave a lop-sided grin as he tipped two pills onto his palm. “I didn’t know if you were going to show up on time before I had to go to the pool block, and I didn’t want you dying or having a heart attack on me or whatever, so I slipped them inside your locker.”

 

“Does… does that mean I can take them on my own again?” Nathaniel asked tentatively.

 

“No,” Brent grinned as he held his upturned hand to the short boy’s lips.

 

Nathaniel sighed and ate the medicine from Brent’s palm. Compared to the way he’d taken it at the mall, this way practically felt commonplace. When strong arms pulled him towards Brent’s warm body, he felt a stab of panic that the boy was going to kiss him again right there in the hall, but all he did was keep him close, pressing one hand to the back of his head.

 

“Seriously though, you need to watch out for that guy,” Brent warned the smaller boy in a serious tone. “He’s too  _ nice _ . You can’t trust that shit. It’s weird.”

 

“I think he’s just a little eccentric…” Nathaniel trailed off uncertainly, trying to smooth the situation over with the benefit of the doubt. Brent’s fingers tightened in his crop of silky hair until it became painful, tilting his head back so he was forced to look up at him.

 

“Ow!” Nathaniel yelped. “What?!”

 

“This isn’t a ‘little weird’ like a patch of purple hair or fuck-tonne of tye-dye wardrobe,” Brent groused, holding Nathaniel’s gaze. “Even that freak with the Jesus fetish is more trustworthy. Watch out for him, Nathaniel.”

 

“Okay! Okay! Just let go of my hair, you’re hurting me,” Nathaniel surrendered, squirming in Brent’s grip. The larger boy sighed and loosened his grip, rubbing the patch of Nathaniel’s hair where he’d pulled. 

 

“Crybaby,” he cursed softly. “Your freak eye doesn’t do that shimmering thing, by the way. It’s just the regular, blue eye.”

 

“Don’t call it a freak eye,” Nathaniel pouted. “And I still don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re pretty weird yourself, you know.”

 

“That’s fine, as long as it’s the kind of weird that gets you hot.” Brent stuck out his tongue before he spun around and grabbed the rest of Nathaniel’s things, piling them on top of the swatch book in the boy’s hands before he slammed the locker door. “Now come on, I’m walking you to class.”

 

Nathaniel was perfectly capable of getting to class on his own as long as he walked at a nice, regular pace, but after Brent’s little outburst, he thought it might be best to humour whatever it was the beefy swimmer was trying to do. He was surprised, however, when Brent shadowed him all the way into the Tropes Academy auditorium and down the steps into the pit before the stage.

 

“Such a pleasure for you to drop by,” Stavros noted mildly, one eye fixed warily on Brent. Judging by the bouquet of roses he was arranging in a vase next to the chaise lounge from an improv set, he might have been planning a slightly more spectacular welcome if Nathaniel had shown up alone.

 

“So where’s this big surprise, Enrique?” Brent challenged, jutting out his handsome chin. “Or was that a lie?”

 

“Not at all!” Stavros said boldly, zhuzhing up his sleeves as he hopped down from the stage and running his fingers through his hair as he minced down the short hall to one of the backstage doors. “Follow me.”

 

Nathaniel had already been backstage several times before; it was where most of Drama Production did their work during classes while the students who also did Drama Theatrical ran through lines out of the stage. With a shrug, he followed after Stavros with Brent hot on his heels, but he was shocked by an unexpected additional to the workroom out back.

 

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Stavros said wistfully, clapping one hand on the heavy machinery.

 

It was the biggest sewing machine Nathaniel had ever seen! He gasped and ran up to it, running his fingers over the stitch selector as though it might vanish when he touched it. It was built into its own workbench and everything!

 

“Th-these costs thousands of dollars!” he remarked incredulously, turning to Stavros for answers. 

 

“Nobody knows who paid for it; it simply arrived. We have a mysterious benefactor, it seems.” The tanned boy beamed, 

 

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Brent frowned as he looked at it. “Is it better because it’s Japanese or something?”

 

“Huh?” Nathaniel blinked, following Brent’s gaze to the blue logo stamped on the machine. “Uhm,” his voice wavered as he looked at the alphabet uncertainly. “I can’t read it.”

 

“It says ‘Majori Corp.” Brent said matter-of-factly.

 

“Brent, you read kanji?” Nathaniel raised his eyebrows.

 

“No, you’re just too short to see it printed in English along the top of the machine.” 

 

“He is right,” Stavros agreed reluctantly, elegantly tracing one finger along the lettering. “I cannot say I am familiar with the brand, but it is certainly a blessing given your aspirations for the  _ Korlamity X _ costuming.”

 

“What the hell is he talking about?” Brent asked Nathaniel, looking weirded out.

 

“Ah, it’s the name of the play,” Nathaniel bowed his head slightly as he explained. “But he’s right - this is an industrial-grade machine! I can get everything done much faster on this than if I brought my little sewing machine from home. It means I can work with more fabrics, too! I might have to rethink some of my costume designs.”

 

“It is thrilling to see you like this,” Stavros interrupted tenderly, reaching down to cup the smaller boy’s cheek. “So young; so full of energy. Perhaps it is the wizard-matter dreamstuff of the drama room that inspires creativity and confidence in all of us.”

 

“Oh yeah? Hey Nathaniel,” Brent said suddenly. “We should see a movie sometime.”

 

Nathaniel blinked. He wasn’t sure he’d heard Brent correctly, but the backstage room was so quiet that there was no way he’d misheard. “W-what?” he spluttered, blushing as he pulled away from Stavros’ hand.

 

“What.” Stavros repeated flatly.

 

“Tonight.” Brent clarified with a deadpan stare straight at the smaller boy.

 

“I-I can’t tonight,” Nathaniel stammered. “I’m staying late to work on the costumes and then I have to go to my doctor’s appointment for my hear-”

 

“Then I’ll drive you,” Brent spoke over the top of him, his slate eyes briefly flicking to a discretely scowling Stavros. “Extra-curricular only runs for an hour, right? So I’ll pick you up at four.”

 

“That really is unnecessary,” Stavros sniffed, “I’ll be supervising Nathaniel all afternoon; I would be happy to provide transport anywhere he needs afterwards.”

 

“If Nathaniel so much as touches your greasy scooter, I’m going to take one of those pizza boxes and-”

 

The lunch bell rang conveniently to censor whatever it was Brent said, but Stavros was looking rather pale as the blond pushed past him to head to class. 

 

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Stavros said delicately, leaning against the wall as he waved Nathaniel out of the workroom. “I need a moment to collect myself.”

 

With one last, long look at the sewing machine, Nathaniel bit his lip and headed out into the auditorium to join the other Drama Production students who were slowly filtering in for class. He’d be using the sewing machine soon enough, he supposed; once he got his designs past Chad Masalha. 

 

The persnickety director did offer some good discussion points as he looked over the drawings and Nathaniel really couldn’t fault him for it, but boy, was he a real stickler for the rules of the  _ Korlamity X _ universe. No green; no embroidery; less flowing fabric in Princess MiHi’s costume. Could he make her more masculine, not butch, but like danger-sexy? Nathaniel would try.

 

He felt a lot better once he was out of the thick of it and holed up in the work room drawing up patterns and taking the measurements of the chorus members. 

 

“What’s up, Nafashion?  _ Mahalo _ .” The blond dreadlocked boy wandered in about half an hour after Nathaniel had finished recording everyone’s measurements, his arms laden with boxes of paint for the set. 

 

Nathaniel looked up as the boy set down his heavy load, managing a polite smile. He still didn’t know the boy’s name, but he felt a little sorry for him; with no stage roles or major production responsibilities left to dish out, he was pretty much just a stage hand. He seemed to keep himself busy enough both backstage and front, but Nathaniel felt he’d be really bored if he was the other boy’s shoes.

 

“How’s everything coming along?” The blond asked with his usual chill demeanour, looking over the boy’s shoulder at the piece of paper pattern Nathaniel. “You seem really into it.”

 

“Yeah,” Nathaniel said with a smile. “I need to change some of the designs to fit Chad’s direction, but I’ve got plenty to be getting on with in the meantime. I’m staying late today to get the patterns done, then some of the others can help me start sewing.”

 

“Dedication,” the other boy nodded sagely, before he drifted away to a shelf and grabbed a stack of scripts and a box of highlighters. “Just don’t work yourself too hard now. You’ve gotta be satisfied with the life you’re living.”

 

“Um, sure…” Nathaniel managed an uncertain glance and a weak smile in the blond’s direction before he went right back to working. Engrossed, he almost didn’t notice as the bell rang to signal the end of the school day. Had time really passed that quickly? He still had so many patterns to prepare!

 

“Yes, yes, that’s  _ lovely _ Chad, now if you’ll please  _ excuse _ me...” Stavros had finally managed to peel himself away from the rest of the class to come check on Nathaniel. 

 

“I’m so sorry, my flower,” the young gentlemen apologised as he drew close, drawing small circles in the air with his hands. “I was otherwise engaged with the other students. It is rewarding, to take our dear teacher’s place, but it can be arduous indeed.”

 

“Mm,” Nathaniel mumbled with a nod as he reached for his scissors to cut the piece he’d just measured.

 

“How have you been coping without me?” Stavros asked tenderly, reaching around the waif to press his fingers lightly against the base of his ribcage. “Is there anything I can do to be of assistance this afternoon?”

 

“Don’t touch me while I’m working,” Nathaniel said brightly, his nimble fingers not missing a beat and he continued to cut a smooth curve in the piece of paper. For once, the words came out smooth and crisp, just like the folds he ironed into the cloth. 

 

“... Or course,” the prefect replied in a harrowed whisper, stepping back.

 

Something about the aura the tiny boy gave off at the sewing table (or perhaps just the heat of the iron he wielded) kept Stavros at bay, albeit sulkily. He settled into one corner with a copy of the script in one hand and a highlighter in the other, but one of his caramel eyes remained fixed on the white clock ticking on the wall.

 

At 4:01PM precisely, Stavros put own his script with a dramatic sigh. “How unfortunate,” he announced. “Still, you can’t expect an athlete to be  _ reliable _ these days. Shall I whisk you away to your appointment on the back of my scarlet steed?”

 

Nathaniel didn’t answer.

 

At 4:02PM, the only reason Nathaniel didn’t scream at the loud  _ BANG  _ was because he was so engrossed in his work. Brent had all but kicked the door open, his hair damp and tousled to complement his brooding expression. “Sorry I’m late,” he said broodily as his eyes slid, broodily, between Nathaniel and a very affronted Stavros. “I had to wash my hair. Nathaniel likes it when I don’t smell of chlorine.”

 

“Yes, I also take care to make sure I am adequately perfumed,” Stavros replied in a pleasant tone, teeth grinding together. “It is a relatively simple task when one does not routinely drown themselves in chemicals, no?”

 

“Come on, Nathaniel,” Brent called as he walked further into the room, pointedly ignoring the delightfully hostile prefect. Carefully skirting around a mannequin, he stood behind the Japanese boy and looked over the shoulder. “My car’s in the parking lot.”

 

“Mm… coming,” Nathaniel replied noncommittally as he double-checked a measurement on a pattern for a pair of pants. Brent had to physically grab his wrist to stop him from working.

 

“You can’t miss your appointment.” The underwear model said sternly. “You can be a nerd another day.”

 

Nathaniel frowned with a small measure of distress as he looked down at his work in progress on the table, but his heart twinged beneath the bandage on his chest and he gave in to Brent’s insistent tug. “Okay,” he pouted, gathering up his things and slipping them into his book bag. “Bye, Stavros,” he shot the prefect a faint smile as he passed him on his way out.

 

“Until we meet again, my sweet,” the tanned boy said wistfully, bowing as the boy passed him. He straightened up immediately and gave Brent the cold shoulder as he passed. “See that he arrives in one piece,” he said icily. “Without Nathaniel, this semester’s production would fall into  ruin.”

 

Brent could barely contain his disgust as they made it out into the hall and through to the Academy grounds. “Ugh, that guy is the worst. I don’t know what all you art queers see in a scumbag like that,” he groaned once they were out in the hall, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walking alongside the shorter boy.  

 

“I think he might just be popular because he’s unusual,” Nathaniel shrugged, thinking about his own popularity at Tropes Academy. “That sort of thing just seems to work in this place. With the artistic kids, anyway.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Brent gave a huff of disbelieving laughter. “Trust me, a guy like that only has one thing on his mind and he’ll do anything to get it. The only thing ‘unusual’ about it is he’s queer instead of straight.”

 

“Well…” Nathaniel began uncertainly.

 

“What?” Brent pressed, looking down at the boy as they walked along the path together.

 

Nathaniel slowed down his stride a bit to deliberately put a bit of space between himself and the muscular boy. “Don’t you want the same thing?” he pointed out tentatively. “I mean… you kind of… in the showers…” He trailed off, blushing as his embarrassment killed the volume in his voice.

 

“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” Brent replied defensively. 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nathaniel complained, finding his voice. “You... even this morning, you tried to…”

 

“I mean I’m honest about it. Now come on,” Brent huffed as he took Nathaniel’s hand and pulled him along the path towards the Tropes Academy parking lot.

 

What did  _ that  _ mean? Nathaniel wondered, pouting as he got into Brent’s white Mazda MX-5 Miata. He wasn’t sure if he was smart enough to tell any more. Maybe he’d feel better after he got some more of his medicine.


	14. Nathaniel Goes the the Doctor

Brent’s convertible pulled up alongside the local medical facility; a big, white building housing a dentist, a physiotherapist, a general practice and a pharmacy on different floors. Nathaniel opened the car door and hopped out onto the pavement, looking up at the mirrored glass doors curiously. Until now, he’d been having checkups at the city hospital where he’d had his heart surgery. The fact that Aunt Marjorie had booked him into the general practice herself was reassuring, but whether it was on the merit of their skills or simply the fact that it was covered by her insurance, he wasn’t sure. He hoped they were nice. Besides, as far as treatment options went in this town, it was this place, the hospital, or Old Joe’s Orthopaedic Shack out in the Megamall. 

“Alright, I’m going to go find a place to park over there,” Brent scratched his nose, turning his head towards the car park outside the shopping plaza across the street. “Come find my car when you’re done.”

“Are you sure? This could take a while,” Nathaniel said uncertainly. “If you want to go, I can just get an Uber home or something.”

“It’s fine,” Brent waved him off. “I need to pick up some stuff from that 24/7 FITNESS anyway. If you take too long, I’ll pick up a magazine.”

“W-well... okay, if you don’t mind,” Nathaniel nodded, surprised the impatient boy would be willing to wait around for him to finish his appointment.

“Besides,” a shark-like grin spread across Brent’s face. “Need to make sure you don’t hold out on me once you get your prescription refilled. Later, princess.”

Maybe not that surprised. Nathaniel sighed softly to himself as Brent pealed off the curb in his Miata. There was nothing he could do about it now; he turned on his heel and went up the steps to enter the building. He honestly thought he could handle the two flights of stairs up to the general practice, but he took the elevator just in case. The last thing he needed was to was to have the new doctor yell at him for having a high pulse or whatever. When he arrived in the waiting room, he introduced himself to the receptionist and was sat in a chair for all of five minutes before a primly uniformed Asian man with greying temples strode down the hall.

“Nathaniel… Willowisp?” he called, his dark eyes quickly sweeping the waiting room before they fixed on the young man. He raised his eyebrows briefly, then gave a curt nod as the boy got to his feet and gave an awkward little wave.

“Konnichiwa,” the old man said, bowing at the waist. “I am Dr. Tanaka.”

Flustered, Nathaniel hastily bowed in kind. “H-hai. Um, hi. I’m Nathaniel. I’m here for a checkup. I had a surgery about six weeks ago…”

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “Please follow me to my office.”

Nathaniel tried not to feel nervous as he followed the man down the linoleum-floored hall, but he couldn’t help it. Something about the clinical surrounding always put him a little on edge. They never even had curtains in these places, let alone any other kind of interesting fabric.

“Please remove your shirt and shoes, then hop on the scale,” Dr. Tanaka gestured politely as he closed the office door behind them and put on a stethoscope. “I’ll record your weight before I check your pulse and draw some blood for a routine test.”

“Um, okay,” Nathaniel nodded as he pulled off his shoes and hesitantly took off his shirt to reveal his bandaged chest. 

“It’s good to see that you are changing the dressing regularly,” the doctor nodded. “Although not too regularly, I hope. Have you been keeping it dry?”

“Mostly dry,” Nathaniel lied, remembering the weekend at the swim meet as he hopped up onto the scales. “I cover it with plastic when I shower.” 

“Please try to avoid getting it wet as much as possible, it reduces the risk of infection. Hrrm,” the man frowned for a moment, writing down the reading from the scales before he carried on. “Alright, please take a seat up on the table.”

Nathaniel followed the doctor’s instructions and tried not to wince as the man inspected his stitches, listening to his heartbeat with the stethoscope. A small whimper escaped him when Dr. Tanaka took a syringe and drew a small amount of blood from the crook of his arm, but it wasn’t too bad.

“Alright, please wait here for a moment while I run this to the lab. I will be back in a few minutes.” the man bowed his head briefly before he left through the door.

Left there on the table, Nathaniel pressed his lips together and swung his feet back and forth nervously, twiddling his thumbs. Part of him wished he had invited Brent to come with him for his appointment. It might have been a bit embarrassing, sure, but he had already seen him without a shirt on and at least then it might have been less scary than sitting alone in this big, boring roo-

“Guten tag, herr Willowisp~” a camp greeting rang from the office door.

Nathaniel whipped his head around in fright, and then tilted his chin down to properly take in the sight of the short boy in the doorway from his vantage point up on the examination table.

“You!” he cried incredulously, his cheeks burning red as he realised he was shirtless in front of this… creepy German. Grabbing one corner of a sheet folded at the foot of the table, he pulled it up to cover his scar. “What are you doing here?!”

Grinning smugly, Edwin von Kurzstapel didn’t answer immediately as he strutted into the doctor’s office wearing a white coat and carrying a wooden step. 

“Look, I really don’t want to do this right now,” Nathaniel said uncomfortably, hunching his shoulders. “I just want to get my medical checkup and leave. I had a surgery.”

“Yes, I am very familiar with your medical file,” Edwin remarked officiously, pulling on a latex glove. “A minithoracotomy for an atrial myxoma. I looked into the matter in great detail when I suspected it was an elaborate ruse to avoid enrolment at Typecaster’s Technical.” The last word was punctuated with a grunt as he unloaded the wooden step at Nathaniel’s feet. Hopping up onto it, he got a significant boost to his grand height of four-foot-eight and he grinned right in the other boy’s face. “If you had enrolled, you would know that we endure many internships and practical assignments to gain experience in scientific fields. Quidquid est necessarium!”

Nathaniel only felt marginally better with the information that the boy was here as part of his studies and not stalking his every move. “You stole my diary,” he complained, clamping his legs together as he leaned away from the boy. 

“Yes, but it was not nearly enlightening as I had hoped,” Edwin groused, snapping a latex glove onto one wrist. “After much handwriting analysis I have reason to believe it was forged.”

“Then why did you rip it up and paste it all over the school fence?!” Nathaniel whined loudly, tipping his head back. He flinched as the blond boy swatted the sheet away from his chest, but ultimately his inherent rule-following had him swallowing his cringing as he lowered his hands and allowed the intern to remove the bandage from his chest.

“A little bit of a joke,” Edwin chuckled, the words sounding grossly unsettling in his thick accent. “It is very amusing to me that you would be undone by the very thing you claim to pursue. This… art,” he said disparagingly. “An utter waste of a mind!”

“That’s really rude,” Nathaniel scowled as best he could with his adorable features. “Why don’t you just get your own mind?”

“That is rich coming from a renowned thief!” Edwin snarled, stabbing a finger towards Nathaniel’s neck. 

Yelping, the small boy flinched and threw his head back as far as it would go to avoid the blow, but he could still feel the finger jabbing into the soft part under his jaw bone. 

The German student took a deep breath and a moment to recollect himself before he withdrew his hand. “Anyway,” he carried on primly, producing a foil sachet from his coat pocket and tearing it open. The swab inside smelled strongly of iodine. “All is not lost! I am confident my worthy adversary lives on inside you. He just needs to be a little more receptive to my incentives to join me at Typecaster’s.”

Nathaniel pulled a face as the boy dabbed the swab over the stitches on his chest, staining the skin bright yellow. “You’re crazy,” he complained, finally pushing the boy away. “I’m telling Dr. Tanaka you’re a bad intern.”

“The preferred term is ‘mad’,” Edwin shot back smugly as he hopped off the step, removing his gloves with one neat, well-practiced movement. “And please go ahead! This little general practice is beneath me, but unfortunately I am not allowed within five hundred feet of a United States military base due to prior transgressions.”

“Just go away!” Nathaniel yelled, balling his hands into fists out of frustration. 

“Certainly,” Edwin purred, sauntering towards the door. “Auf wiedersehen~”

Nathaniel groaned, seriously considering pulling out his cell phone to call Kip about what had happened when Dr. Tanaka quietly returned to the room, the tails of his lab rustling in the breeze of Edwin’s departure.

“Oh, was that a young associate of yours? I’d prefer if he stayed in the waiting room,” The doctor remarked as he set some papers down on his desk. 

Nathaniel’s blood ran cold.

“No,” he said urgently, looking up at the man with wide eyes. “He told me he was doing a practical assignment here!” 

“Hmm, no, we don’t have students here currently,” Dr. Tanaka frowned, turning around. “Did he do anything to you?”

“He put this stuff on my chest,” Nathaniel whimpered, pointing worriedly to the bright yellow fluid Edwin had smeared there.

Of all the things for him to do, the doctor leaned forward and gave the boy’s stitches a sniff. “It seems like standard antiseptic,” he mused as he straightened up. “I’m not sure why he applied it, however. We won’t be removing your stitches for another two weeks.”

Nathaniel groaned, putting his head in his hands. 

“Would you like me to call security?” the doctor offered seriously.

“No… no. It’s okay. I think he just wanted to talk to me,” he sighed helplessly, pouting. 

“Very well,” the old man nodded, picking up his clipboard once more. “I took the liberty of collecting your prescription from the pharmacy on my way back from the lab. You’ll notice they are larger than before, but do not worry; they are sugar coated so they should be easy to swallow. The dosage is now one pill.”

“One pill,” Nathaniel repeated obediently with a little nod, accepting the orange plastic bottle with both hands.

“There is… another thing,” Dr. Tanaka said gravely, placing one hand on a box he had brought back with him and placed on his desk.

“What is it?” Nathaniel blinked.

“You have lost five pounds since the day of your surgery. If you were muscular, I would have expected some loss in mass due to inactivity, but this is concerning to me. Have you been exercising?”

“N-no,” Nathaniel blushed innocently, wide-eyed. “I got an exemption from gym class and everything like they told me to. All I do is walk to and from school.” 

“Have you been eating a balanced diet?” The doctor prompted.

“I… eat.” Nathaniel hesitated, his eyes darting to the door. 

“I see,” the man sighed, picking up the box and presenting it to the boy. “These are protein bars.”

Nathaniel looked down his nose at the brightly coloured box uncertainly. He recognised some of the Japanese characters spelling out the word for ‘strawberry’, but the cartoon squid smiling at him from the box art was unsettling. “Strawberry and… squid ink?” Nathaniel wrinkled his nose as he put two and two together.

“Trust me,” Dr. Tanaka chuckled warmly for the first time throughout the appointment. “All protein bars taste awful. Just be grateful it is a slightly sweet kind of awful. The added Omega 3 will be good for you. I want you to eat at least one per day in addition to balanced meals. I have your aunt’s approval to get more delivered to your home.”

“Okay,” Nathaniel sighed, feeling guilty for all the carrots and hummus. 

“Now,” the doctor replied as he pulled on another pair of gloves. “I will replace your dressing and then you may leave. Please check in with the receptionist on your way out. We will call you if your blood test indicates anything we need to discuss.”

Five minutes later, Nathaniel carefully made his way down the building steps with his pills in his pocket and the box of protein bars in his hands. Looking both ways before he crossed the street to the shopping plaza car park, he found Brent sitting on the hood of his Miata, flipping through a copy of Vogue magazine. When Nathaniel got closer and saw the boy’s other purchase sitting by his feet, however, he gasped. It was the biggest jar of protein powder Nathaniel had ever seen. 

“Oh my gosh!” Nathaniel cried. “That’s the biggest jar I’ve ever seen!”

“It’s not that big,” Brent pouted, folding up his magazine and sliding off the hood of the car.  
“It’s bigger than me!” the tiny boy cried in delight, placing his box of protein bars on the lid as he squatted in an attempt to lift it.

“Hey. Hey!” Brent said sharply, bending down to take the jar before the other could do any damage. Unlike Nathaniel, who had been struggling to lift it, the swimmer held it one-handed with relative ease, eying the Japanese boy suspiciously as he moved to stow it safely on the back seat of his car. “You just got back from the doctors,” he said pointedly. “You want to throw your back out five minutes later?!”

“I just wanted to see if I could lift it,” Nathaniel said earnestly, batting his eyelashes down at the jar. 

“What is this stuff, anyway?” Brent peered at the box with a frown, unable to read the foreign print. When his eyes found the English translation stamped in one corner, he pulled a face. “Yikes. That sounds awful. You should never get the fruit flavoured protein bars; they’re always high carb.”

“That’s just the kind the doctor gave me,” Nathaniel explained with pink cheeks. “He says I have to gain weight.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Brent clicked his tongue as he dropped the box onto the seat next to his protein. “You’re not exactly fleshed out.”

“I can’t help it!” Nathaniel spluttered indignantly. “I can’t even do gym class, it’s not like I can sit around a-a-and pump iron or whatever…” he pouted, looking Brent’s shapely arms up and down indignantly.

“Oh, I wish all I had to do was pump iron,” Brent said with a thousand-yard stare into Nathaniel’s eyes. “You don’t even want to know how bad a spin class is.”

Nathaniel huffed, folding his arms. “You know what I mean.”

“Just get in the car, Nathaniel,” Brent sighed, rolling his eyes as he walked around to the driver’s seat. “No one cares that you’re a wimp. Everyone knows that if they lay a hand on you, I’ll impale them on the school flagpole.”

“W-wait, what?” Nathaniel stammered as he gripped the car door handle. “You’re not going to hurt anyone, are you?!”

“Not as long as they do what I say,” Brent said with a dark smile as he revved the engine.

Nathaniel hesitated for a moment, then wilted and got into the passenger seat. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to impress the importance of Gandhi’s teachings into Brent Butcherson in just one sunny afternoon. For the rest of the trip, he just listened to the radio and gave Brent a few directions but he must have zoned out because he barely realised when they had arrived.

“Is this it?” Brent asked as the Miata pulled up in the parking lot outside Nathaniel’s apartment complex.

“Yeah, this is it,” Nathaniel said quietly, looking up at the door of his apartment on the first landing. There didn’t seem to be any signs of forced entry… hopefully Edwin hadn’t made a stop here after escaping the medical facility.

“So can I come up?” Brent grinned from behind him, leaning over.

“Why?” Nathaniel replied instantly, his eyes wide and wary. When he felt Brent’s warm breath on the nape of his neck, however, a shiver ran through him and his heart started thumping loudly in his chest. 

“Who cares?” Brent chuckled as he snuffled closer, his lips brushing against the boy’s skin. “Maybe I just wanna see how a little art nerd like you lives.”

“Uh.. uhm. Okay,” Nathaniel said quickly, his fingers scrabbling for the door handle as he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. Maybe… maybe if Edwin was there, Brent could beat him up. Nathaniel had a feeling that Brent be a lot better at catching him than Dudley if he tried to run away. Sure, that was the reason.

“I’ll bring this up,” Brent said warmly as he got out of the car and hoisted the giant plastic jar of protein up onto his shoulder. “You can try some - if you really do need to bulk up, this will do a better job than those fruity bars.”

“They… they have Omega 3,” Nathaniel pouted, hugging the box to his chest as he led the beefy boy up the stairs. He bit his lip as he unlocked the front door, stepping aside to let the blond in first. When the swimmer didn’t cry foul or curse out any intruders after entering, the smaller boy sighed. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried or relieved. 

“Nice place,” Brent commented as he set the protein powder down on the kitchen counter.

“My um, Aunt Marjorie owns it,” Nathaniel admitted awkwardly, gripping one of his elbows as he lingered in the hall. 

“You’re lucky. I have to room with this college student named Frank. He’s an asshole, but it sure makes paying the rent easier. Do you have any glasses?” Brent asked, rummaging around in the cupboards.

“Oh um, here,” Nathaniel ducked his head and ventured to the correct cabinet, pulling out two glasses. “So… you don’t live with your parents, either?” he asked hesitantly. “Are they…”

“I’m emancipated,” Brent replied succinctly, wrenching open the lid of the protein jar. “My folks are jailbirds. Good looking, but total junkies.”

“Oh my god,” Nathaniel exclaimed softly. “Did they ever-”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Brent cut him off, a surly furrow in his brow as he took the glasses out of the boy’s hands. “Can you get some water for this?”

“Of course.” Spooked, Nathaniel skittered to the fridge and retrieved the water jug. He pressed his lips together as he sidled up to Brent’s elbow and put the jug on the counter. “I’m sorry,” he said meekly, biting his lip as he looked up at the frowning boy.

Brent sighed and stopped scooping some power into the two glasses. “It’s fine,” he said gently, placing one hand on the boy’s head and ruffling his hair. “You didn’t know.”

Nathaniel closed his eyes briefly before he looked down at the powder the bigger boy was mixing up in the glass of water. It didn’t exactly look very appetizing.

“Brace yourself,” Brent chuckled as he pushed one of the glasses towards Nathaniel. “I buy the unflavoured stuff. It tastes like shit.”

Nathaniel turned his nose up at it, watching as the muscular boy grabbed his own glass and chugged it with a grimace. Picking up his own glass, he took a reluctant sip and gagged. “Gross!”

“Drink it,” Brent ordered flatly as he rinsed out his empty glass in the sink. “You need it.”

Nathaniel pinched his nose shut and drank the rest of the protein shake. He wasn’t exactly a power-chugger like Brent, but he managed to get all of it down except for a few drops at the bottom of the glass.

“Good,” Brent nodded as he took the empty glass from Nathaniel’s hands and ran it under the faucet. “

“I feel too full,” Nathaniel sulked, using his teeth to scrape the bad taste from his tongue.

“Jesus, you’re never gonna bulk up,” Brent rolled his eyes. “If I hadn’t already seen you basically naked I’d ask if you even went through puberty.”

“B-Brent!” Nathaniel cried indignantly, then screamed as the swimmer picked him up. “Brent!” he kicked his legs, but he was held fast.

“This is way too easy,” Brent tutted as he carried the Japanese boy out of the kitchen.

“Put me down!” Nathaniel demanded with tiny fury, gasping as he was suddenly plopped down on the sofa. He jumped as Brent’s weight sank into the cushions beside him, drawing his knees up to his chest out of instinct, but all that happened was one strong arm reached around his shoulders and pulled just enough to tip his little body against the other’s broad chest.

“This is a nice place,” Brent repeated with shit-eating grin, patting Nathaniel’s glossy black hair.

Wriggling a little to get comfortable, Nathaniel blushed as his cheek pressed against Brent’s pectoral muscle. He could hear the boy’s steady heat beat in his chest. “...You’re weird,” he said finally, finding a gentle handhold on some of the bunch-up fabric of Brent’s T-shirt. 

“Not as weird as you,” Brent chuckled in reply.

Nathaniel pursed his lips at this, but he couldn’t hold them like that for very long. After a few moments his expression softened and his heterochromatic eyes flicked over to the TV remote sitting on the coffee table.

“So… do you want to watch a movie or something?”


	15. Nathaniel and the Breakfast Crisis

Nathaniel awoke to a strange beeping sound, slowly at first but then his mismatched eyes flew open quite quickly as the bed beneath him shifted up like an earthquake. 

 

Oh. It wasn’t a bed. It was Brent.

 

Wait.

 

“H-huh?!” Still groggy, Nathaniel propped himself and rubbed his eyes as Brent groaned beneath him and pulled his smartphone out of his pocket, shutting off his alarm. Gasping, the smaller boy backed away on all fours on the sofa cushions, blushing deeply across both cheeks. “Br-brent?” He exclaimed, “What time is it?”

 

“Five,” Brent mumbled as he rolled off the sofa, crawling towards an open space on the floor.

 

“In the  _ morning _ ?!” It wasn’t that Nathaniel was upset at the early hour; he often woke up early out of habit or sometimes even on purpose if he had a particularly elaborate outfit planned for the day. What shocked him was that the other boy had spent the night. “What are you still  _ doing _ here?”

 

“You… fell… asleep,” Brent grunted in-between push-ups on the living room floor. 

 

“B-but,” Nathaniel stuttered, shifting into a kneeling position with his hands meekly in his lap. “Why didn’t you just wake me up so you could go home?”

 

“I didn’t… feel… like it.”

 

Sensing that the swimmer might get annoyed if he kept trying to talk to him while he was working out, Nathaniel pursed his lips before getting off the couch and skittering into his bedroom. Taking special care to make sure his bedroom door was locked first, he took a quick shower and then started picking out his outfit for the day. Just as he found some rose-tinted round sunglasses in his second closet, he heard the water running in the other bathroom. Brent must have finished working out and helped himself to a shower. Nathaniel didn’t mind; he was probably really sweaty. Abs like Brent’s probably didn’t grow on trees.

 

Wriggling into a clingy black singlet and black star-print boxer briefs, Nathaniel took his time rifling through the racks in his second closet to find something cute. He settled on a cropped bardot-neckline sweatshirt in a primary coloured comic book collage print. He was still trying to find something to really  _ work  _ with it when he heard a strangled scream from the other side of his bedroom door.

 

His heart leaping in his chest, Nathaniel rushed to the door, fumbling with the lock for a moment before he burst into the living room to find Brent standing in his kitchen, damp hair tousled and chiseled abs illuminated by the holy light of the refrigerator. His studly face, however, was a composition of suffering.

 

“ _ There’s no food _ ,” the jock exclaimed in the same way one might say there’s no phone signal when they were stuck with murderer in the house.

 

Nathaniel stared at him a moment, mouth agape, then pattered into the kitchen. “Yes there is,” he pouted, nodding towards three carrots and a half-finished pot of hummus on the middle shelf.

 

“There’s no  _ real _ food,” the bigger boy groused more specifically. 

 

Nathaniel knew there was a bag of rice in his pantry, but he also knew that Brent didn’t eat carbs, so he kept his mouth shut. 

 

“Don’t you have any bacon? Eggs?  _ Beans _ ?” Brent prompted him helplessly. 

 

“Um… I don’t really eat that stuff,” Nathaniel admitted with a sheepish grin, poking his fingertips together.

 

“How are you alive?!” Brent demanded angrily, slamming the fridge door.

 

“Aaah! Don’t yell at me!” Nathaniel recoiled, clapping his hands over his ears at the loud noise. “Can’t you just have one of my protein bars or something?”

 

Brent pulled a face, wrinkling his nose at the colourful packaging before he grabbed one of the bars and cautiously peeled off the foil wrapper. Nathaniel watched as he took a bite, chewed for a moment, then turned green and flung himself over the kitchen sink, gagging.

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?!” Brent spluttered, holding the offending bar at arm’s length as he ran the faucet and gargled some water to get rid of the taste. “I’ve had some nasty shit but that is the worst!”

 

“Is it the squid ink?” Nathaniel asked worriedly. He was supposed to be eating one with every meal!

 

“No, it’s not even fishy, it’s just…  _ wrong _ . Like…  _ eurgh _ …” The boy tossed the bar on the counter and turned back to the sink, scraping his tongue with his fingernails. 

 

Curiously, Nathaniel picked up the protein bar and gave it a sniff. It didn’t  _ smell _ like anything; the way Brent was acting, he’d practically expected sulphur. Snootily wiping some of Brent’s spit off with his hand, he took an experimental nibble.

 

And then a bigger nibble.

 

And then a bite.

 

“Wow,” Nathaniel said brightly, and as politely as he could so quickly after swallowing. “This is way better than I expected.” 

 

Brent watched incredulously as the smaller boy finished off the entire protein bar, even licking his lips afterwards. “Are you serious?” he asked, disturbed. “Can’t you  _ taste _ that?”

 

“It’s like a  _ little _ chalky, but the strawberry makes it sweet,” Nathaniel explained, running his tongue over his teeth. “It’s not even like squid ink at all. I like them.”

 

The two boys were suddenly interrupted by the pitiful gurgle of Brent’s post-work-out stomach. 

 

“Breakfast is my biggest meal of the day,” Brent said gravely, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “I have training today. If I don’t eat breakfast… I’ll die.”

 

“We could get something before class?” Nathaniel suggested gingerly. 

 

Brent closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose, opening them again with determination. “We’re going to my place,” he announced, nodding down at Nathaniel as he gave his shoulder a pat. “Go put on some pants.”

 

Blinking, Nathaniel looked down at his boxer briefs and startled. He hadn’t realised! His cheeks flushed pink immediately and he clapped his hands over his crotch, running for his room.

 

Later, a fully dressed and still faintly blushing Nathaniel got out of Brent’s Miata with his school bag slung over his shoulder. The apartment complex where Brent lived seemed nice enough, but the building was a lot taller to house more units and he got the impression that the rent was cheaper here. 

 

When they took the elevator up to the sixth floor and Brent let him in the door, Nathaniel saw that the apartments were definitely smaller, but Brent’s seemed pretty cosy, all things considered. A small living room with a TV, bookcases and a brown leather sofa joined onto a kitchenette with stools lined up underneath the other side of the counter. A hall ran down the length of the apartment on the right-hand side, presumably leading to other rooms.

 

“Hey, Frank! You better not have your dick out!” Brent bellowed as he slammed the door behind them and headed into the kitchenette. “We’ve got company!”

 

Nathaniel wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to Brent’s room mate, but based on that alone, he had imagined someone rather different from the thin, bespectacled young man who emerged from the hallway with a frown. His glossy, dark hair stood up about an inch from his scalp and he was already dressed in a short-sleeve, green check shirt and neatly ironed grey slacks despite the early hour. Together, Frank and Brent could practically star in their own Jock ‘n’ Nerd roommate sitcom. Was that a mean thing to think? Nathaniel wasn’t sure if he should feel bad.

 

“That was  _ one _ time,” Frank grumbled in a nasal voice. “I was  _ building _ a  _ computer _ .”

 

“Yeah, probably  _ jacking _ over RAM or whatever,” Brent snorted as he started pulling out ingredients from his well-stocked fridge. “Nerd.”

 

Nathaniel felt the sitcom remark was fair.

 

“H-hi Frank,” Nathaniel introduced himself shyly with a quick bow. “I’m Nathaniel. I go to school with Brent.”

 

“Hrm, what a surprise,” Frank squinted at him for a moment, pushing his square spectacles up his sharp nose. “Well, if you could loosely define Tropes as a ‘school’, I guess that could be true.”

 

“Dude,” Brent shot him a glare, managing to look hostile even as he whisked eggs in a bowl. “Be nice to him or  _ I’ll _ jack over your computer.”

 

Frank gave a heavy sort of sigh, staring off into the distance for a moment before his gaze flicked back to Nathaniel and he held out his hand. “A pleasure,” he sniffed. 

 

Nathaniel returned the handshake uncertainly. He tried not to take it personally when Frank stepped back and pulled a small, personal bottle of hand sanitiser out of his pocket the moment they stopped. 

 

“Now that that’s taken care of,” the older boy drawled as he headed over to the coat rack and pulled a white lab coat over his shoulders. “I must be going. The last time I failed to secure adequate lab space, a henchman undergrad spilled smallpox vaccine on my bioflesh prototypes.”

 

“Okay, bye-ee,” Nathaniel replied with hollow politeness, watching the man warily as he slowly took a seat at the breakfast bar. When the front door closed, Nathaniel whipped around and leaned forward on the counter.

 

“I thought you said he was a college student!” he hissed. “What was he  _ talking _ about?!”

 

“Yeah, he’s doing a college bridge course at that freak school,” Brent shrugged as he scraped some diced onions and bell peppers into the bowl.

 

Nathaniel’s eyebrows flew up. “You mean Typecasters?!” he gasped.

 

“Yeah, that’s the one. You want any ham in your omelette, or are all those carrots because you’re vegetarian?”

 

Nathaniel didn’t know what to think. Frank had seemed like a jerk, true; but not an obsessed maniac jerk like Edwin. Perhaps it was a little unfair to consider him dangerous just because they went to the same school as each other. After all, they weren’t even in the same year - they probably didn’t even know each other. Right. “N-no… I’m not vegetarian,” he said finally, relaxing his shoulders. “Just make mine the same as yours, it’s fine.”

 

“Alright, but I don’t have cheese,” Brent warned him, tipping the mixture onto the frying pan.

 

“If you eat any junk food, do you die?” Nathaniel asked with false piety, batting his eyelashes. 

 

Brent gave a single, snorting laugh. “Nah. I just try to be careful because it’s easy to slip. Like you with not eating at all, apparently.”

 

“I just get  _ busy _ ,” Nathaniel pouted, swinging his feet where he sat on the stool. “It can’t be  _ that _ bad to forget a few meals. My body would just start like, stomach-cramping or something if I really needed to eat, right?”

 

“Yeah, after it digests all your muscles and turns you into a pathetic weakling,” Brent jeered as he slapped a plate on the counter and flipped a fluffy, folded omelette onto it in front of the boy. “Eat.”

 

“That was quick,” Nathaniel blinked down at the plate in surprise.

 

“It’s a conveniently timed recipe,” Brent shot back with a warning glare as he pushed the plate closer to the boy. “Now  _ eat _ .”

 

Nathaniel briefly stuck out his tongue in defiance, but he took up the knife and fork Brent thrust at him and tucked in. “...You’re a good cook,” he admitted after a few mouthfuls, reluctant to fan the eternal flames of Brent’s ego any further.

 

“Yeah,” the model grinned as he finished up another omelette for himself and carried it around the counter to take a seat next to the other. “Gotta eat clean, so I can’t rely on that frozen junk like other guys who live alone. It costs more, but I can afford it, especially when I have Frank helping out with the rent.”

 

“M-maybe you could teach me sometime,” Nathaniel suggested sweetly. “I rolled all my electives into Drama Production, so I don’t even take Home Ec.”

 

“Maybe,” Brent’s grin grew shark-like and he leaned against the smaller boy with his muscular shoulder. “What would you do to repay me?”

 

Nathaniel’s face grew warm as he realised what Brent was getting at, he pouted and went back to eating his breakfast with intense focus. Now that he had some food in him, Brent seemed to be back to his usual self.

 

“Come on, Nathaniel,” the swimmer coaxed, his deep voice purring in the boy’s ear. “We could cut class and just stay here all day. I’ll make it worth your while.”

 

Nathaniel dropped his fork in surprise when a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders and another tilted his chin up and to the side. When Brent’s tongue slid over the sensitive spot just below his ear, he shuddered and gripped the edges of the counter, feeling his nipples stiffen underneath his sweatshirt.

 

“ _ Brent! _ ” he moaned helplessly, thrashing his head. “Nn-n _ nooooo _ !”

 

“What?” the bigger boy asked with a frown, straightening up as he let go of Nathaniel’s chin. “What’s wrong?”

 

Nathaniel’s heart felt like it was fluttering. He had to remind himself to breathe, but it just felt shallow and his face was hot. “I… I just don’t want to,” he stammered all in one breath, locking his ankles together under the table. “It feels weird. I don’t know what I want.”

 

Brent gave a heavy sigh. “You are  _ killing _ me, Nathaniel,” he shook his head as he got out of his seat and collected their plates, taking them over to the dishwasher. “If you really don’t want to fool around, I’m gonna take another shower. You can hang out here for a bit, but trust me, if that’s how you feel right now the you do  _ not  _ want to walk in on me,” he shot a wicked grin in his direction, briefly grabbing his bulge before he headed for the hallway.

 

Nathaniel blinked at the boy for a moment before the gears in his head turned and his blushing cheeks got a second wave of embarrassment. “B-Brent!” he yelled indignantly down the hall, but it was more of a complaint than a summons. The boy was already gone, and he heard the shower running a few moments later.

 

Nathaniel sat there pouting in the kitchenette, trying not to think about Brent’s stupid hands touching up his stupid dick under the hot spray of the shower. When he did manage to stamp that out of his imagination, however, he quickly became bored. Sniffing, the boy listened to the shower run before he cast a furtive glance at the mouth of the hallway.

 

It would be rude to snoop.

 

Yes, it would.

 

As a nice, part-Japanese boy, he was always polite.

 

He was.

 

So three minutes later, as Nathaniel leaned against the door frame and took in the entirety of Brent Butcherson’s bedroom, he really felt that it could be chalked up to an adorable bout of mischief rather than rudeness, per se. 

 

Looking around curiously as he stepped inside, he found it rather plain in comparison to his own, starry-ceilinged, accessory-strewn bedroom. A single bed, chest of drawers and a closet were place in an L-shape formation around the rectangular room to make way for an elliptical machine in the far corner. The walls were sparsely decorated with a variety of male model posters and a choice selection of  _ Vogue  _ covers, which he guessed made sense. Still, the lack of anything embarrassing like a beloved stuffed bear or whatever was kind of disappointing. 

 

Pursing his lips, Nathaniel pulled open the top drawer and found… underwear. Of course. Brent must have been scoring freebies from his fashion shows for  _ years _ , because the entire draw was full of the stuff, in all styles and colours. He half expected the second draw to be full of underwear, too, but instead he found some normals stuff like shirts, socks, and…Polaroid-style print-outs.

 

Of  _ him. _

 

Nathaniel gasped as he looked down at the tiny image of himself on all fours on the classroom floor, his collarbone suggestively visible down the hollow made by his Tropes general gym uniform T-shirt. Biting his lip to stifle any noise of outrage, he snatched them up and shuffled through them. They were all here; all the photos Brent had taken on his phone that day!  _ Why were they in his bedroom drawers?! _

 

(A/N: Masturbation. Definitely.)

 

Fuming, the slender boy closed the fan of photos and reached back to shove them in the back pocket of his skinny blue jeans. Brent wouldn’t be using  _ these _ print-outs anymore, that was for sure. 

 

Out in the hall, the bathroom door opened. Nathaniel spasmed and shoved the drawer shut as quietly as possible, whirling around to see Brent appear at the door with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, muscular chest on full display.

 

With a strangled scream, Nathaniel stumbled backwards and landed on the bed, legs akimbo. Brent could barely contain his laughter.

 

“You’re such a spaz,” he sniggered, but the grin faded as he took in the sight of the boy leaning up on his elbows, flush-faced and spread-eagled on his bed. He cleared his throat gently, cheeks gaining their own colour. “Are you sure you don’t want to cut class?” he asked softly, voice husky.

 

Squeaking quietly, Nathaniel scrambled to sit upright in a more respectable position, gripping his knees. “N-no,” he said. “I mean… yes. We  _ can’t _ skip school. We’ll get in trouble. A-and…. And! Kip just got a new hair style! I  _ promised _ I’d go see it,” he floundered for excuses, looking up at Brent with big, puppy-dog eyes. 

 

“Tch, relax,” Brent scoffed, waving his hands as the smouldering expression vanished in an instant. He swaggered over to his top drawers, picking out a fresh pair of underwear. “I’ll take you to school. I just have to get dressed first.”

 

Nathaniel bit his lip, blinking disconcertedly at the rainbow-striped boxer briefs Brent picked out from his collection. 

 

“Besides,” Brent continued with an evil grin over his shoulder, stretching the elastic waistband pointedly in his hands. “With the load I just blew, I don’t think I could get it up again if I tried.”

 

With a repulsed scream, Nathaniel curled into a ball and rolled onto his side so he couldn’t see Brent drop the towel to get dressed. “J-just hurry up and put on your clothes!” he cried. “We’ve gotta get to school!”

 

This was, without a doubt, the  _ weirdest _ morning he’d ever had.


	16. Nathaniel the Blind

Arriving at school, Nathaniel might not have immediately recognised Kip if it weren’t for his sunrise-gradient coat made out of a long faux fur. His bright sweep of purple hair was now black and kept close to his head in twin rows of nubbins that gradually got smaller as they neared the nape of his neck. That, and the fact that he was sitting at his usual desk in home room.

 

“Kip!” Nathaniel called out excitedly, breaking into a skittering little jog to close the distance between them. “You look amazing!”

 

“I know, right?” Kip beamed, flourishing with his hands as he posed his head from side to side. “Trisha’s an _artist._ ”

 

“You look so cool,” Nathaniel cooed, fawning over Kip’s new hairstyle as he reached back and ran his fingers through his own eclectically dyed locks. “Maybe I should get rid of my purple streak and go all-black so we can match.”

 

“Well, purple’s my favourite colour, but you do you,” Kip smiled.

 

“Black hair is hot,” Brent chimed in as he swaggered past to his own seat, having taken his sweet time coming into the classroom.

 

Nathaniel tried to ignore the burning sensation in his own cheeks as he glanced at Kip’s inevitable smirk. However, the smug expression didn’t last for long when the taller boy’s waggling eyebrows stopped and raised in surprise as he noticed something with his friend’s face.

 

“Oh, hey, Nathaniel - you’re missing a contact lens,” Kip said.

 

Nathaniel startled, feeling his cheeks flush for a different reason now. “Oh… n-no,” he stammered, still feeling a little stressed to talk about it. “I’m not wearing contact lenses. This is just, um, how my eyes are now.”

 

“Hold on,” Kip chuckled, eyebrows quirking as he placed two fingers on his temple. “Did you switch into Drama Workshop now, too? You’re really good at acting.”

 

“No!” Nathaniel cried. “Really!”

 

“Mmm-mm,” Kip shook his head. “Those are contacts, for sure. I saw them in a magazine. That one’s fallen out.” To Nathaniel’s surprise, his friend pointed one pink-polished nail at his brown orb.

 

“What?” Nathaniel blinked, “No, this is my normal eye,” he pointed to his remaining blue eye. “And this one turned brown a couple days ago, but I don’t know why. All I did was sneeze.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Kip scoffed, folding his arms. “Pull the other one, Nathaniel. I know you’ve got the hookup for those new KuriPretti lenses. I was gonna ask for some myself once I put two and two together but I didn’t want to be rude.”

 

“W-what?! What’s KuriPretti?” Nathaniel pouted in confusion.

 

“Are you serious? Here, I’ll show you,” Kip frowned at his friend for a moment before he turned and rummaging around in the aclove under his desk. “I get these delivered because they help with inspiration. I can’t read most of it, but they have good pictures, you know?” He pulled out a magazine with _BeauterNational_ printed in cursive on the cover. Nathaniel, being so considerate on account of his Japanese heritage, deduced that it was an international beauty magazine. Kip thumbed through it until he landed on a full page advertisement and held it out for the smaller boy to see.

 

“There,” he said, tapping the photo of a Japanese girl with shimmering, galaxy-like, purple eyes. “KuriPretti lenses. It’s exactly like yours.”

 

Gingerly taking the magazine in his delicate hands, a furrow formed in Nathaniel’s pale brow as he looked over the advertisement.

 

Only bits and pieces were in English and Nathaniel was way too rusty to make sense of all the Japanese writing in such a short amount of time, but going by the various diagrams around the edges of the page, something in the lenses seemed to react with human tears to make the colours move. In fact, if you couldn’t keep them lubricated naturally, eye drops were suggested.

 

Apparently, his lenses were ‘Crybaby Blue’. And he’d been wearing them this whole time?!

 

“Oh my god,” Nathaniel clapped one hand to his mouth. His other hand trembled as he handed the magazine back to Kip. “I didn’t even know. How could I forget something like that? W-what if I got leprosy in my eye or something?!”

 

“Relax, Nathaniel,” Kip waved a hand. “They’re totally safe; I did a lot of research when I was trying to get a pair for myself. They can last up to six months as long as you keep them well-lubricated. Which I guess you uh, do,” the boy said awkwardly, noting the way his friend’s eyes were welling up with tears that very second.

 

“Wait,” Brent piped up, lifting his head from some chicken-scratched math homework. “Nathaniel, you never asked you doctor about your freak eye? And it’s just a contact?”

 

“N-no,” Nathaniel whimpered. “I… forgot…”

 

“Um, excuse you, Brent Butcherson,” Kip clicked his tongue. “Since when did you start interrupting our private conversations with personal questions?”

 

“Up yours, pizza face. I took him to that stupid doctor’s appointment!” Brent snapped.

 

“Brent!” Nathaniel wailed, one fat tear pilling over and down his cheek. “Stop _calling_ him that! It doesn’t even make _sense_!”

 

“Yeah it does,” Brent scoffed.

 

“Oh yeah,” Kip sucked in some air through his teeth as he cast a sideways glance at Brent. “He can’t see it.”

 

“What the fuck?” Brent sniggered, starting to break out into laughter as he gave the Japanese boy and incredulous look. “Nathaniel, it’s right there,” he gestured at Kip’s visage with an open palm. “Are you kidding me?”

 

Utterly nonplussed and with tears slowly leaking down his cheeks, Nathaniel could only sniff in confusion as he looked at Kip’s face. It was the same as it always was; dark and freckled, but nothing at all that would suggest _pizza_.

  
“Nathaniel,” Kip said very gently. “I’ve had cystic acne for over three years. Black African soap helps take the edge off, but it’s so bad that I can’t even wear makeup without breaking out, big time.”

 

“What?!” Nathaniel gasped, leaning forward over his desk. “I don’t see it at all!”

 

“Holy shit,” Brent breathed, watching Nathaniel very closely. “He really can’t see it. What the fuck?”  
  
Kip sighed. “Here, let me see your hand,” he said frankly, bracelets jangling as he held out his own hand. When his friend gingerly offer his hand, it was inspected carefully for any signs of dirt before he brought it up to his face.

 

Nathaniel gave a choked scream as he felt lumps and bumps that he couldn’t see. “What’s wrong with me?!” he wailed.

 

The racket was enough to finally get Mr. Goodwill’s attention. Looking up from a coffee table book about Jackson Pollock works, his knuckles turned white as he saw one of his students with tears down his face.

 

“ _Mister_ Skipper, _Mister_ Butcherson,” he called out with a dangerous air of pleasantry. “Perhaps you could pay attention to something _other_ that Mister Willowisp for a few moments?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Brent groused, reluctantly hunching back over his homework.

 

Kip let Nathaniel’s shaking hand go and threw up his palms in mock surrender as he turned around in his seat.

 

Nathaniel, more distressed that ever, stifled a sob.

 

“You may go to the bathroom,” the pink-haired teacher said rather pointedly, looking down his nose as he turned another page in his book.  
  
Taking the hint, Nathaniel flew to his feet and ran out of the room with one final, dramatic sniff. Fat tears fell like pearls as he rubbed his eyes on the back of his hand. He could barely make it to the bathroom fast enough before the uncomfortable thumping of his heart reminded him of his condition. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself as he ran the faucet at the sink and washed his face.

 

Grabbing a fistful of paper towels, he pouted back at his reflection in the mirror as he blotted his face dry. What _was_ wrong with him?! If he couldn’t see Kip’s acne, what else couldn’t he see? Bending forward over the sink, he got up real close to the mirror and peered at the patterns of his iris, noting with disdain how the colours in the blue KuriPretti lens slowly pulsed and danced thanks to the motivation from his tears. Were they the reason he couldn’t see properly? Pressing his lips together in determination, he spread his eye open with one hand and carefully lifted a finger to the contact lens, watching the blue colour shift from side to side.

 

Just then, the bathroom door opened. Startled, Nathaniel blinked and the KuriPretti lens slid back into place.

 

“Oh?” a familiar purr filled the bathroom and white teeth bared in a grin. “ _Mi cielo_ , what a pleasant surprise.”

 

“S-stavros,” Nathaniel greeted the boy shyly. He straightened up from where he had been leaning over the sink, but not before a warm palm pressed against the small of his back.

 

“You have been crying again,” the drama prefect said seriously, pulling him closer as he cupped Nathaniel’s jaw in his other hand. “Who has hurt you now? Was it that brute?”  
  
“N-no,” Nathaniel stammered, blushing. Breathing deeply as he felt the inevitable blush rising in his cheeks, he felt even more light-headed than usual in the upperclassman’s dreamy presence. “It was my own stupid fault,” he said weakly, fighting the urge to start crying again. He managed a brave little smile instead. “I messed up.”

 

“You are not stupid,” Stavros cooed, hooking a lock of hair behind Nathaniel’s ear. His other hand slipped lower, cupping the curve of the boy’s ass through his jeans. For some reason, the touch felt like it was electrified, sending Nathaniel weak at the knees. He gasped as he fell forward against Stavros’ firm chest, swooning from the rich scent of his trademark cologne.  
  
“S-stavros,” he repeatedly senselessly, clutching at the prefect’s shoulders as he let his chest press up against his. “I feel… _aaah_ -mm,” his moan was cut short as the taller boy captured his lips in a kiss. Nathaniel lost all sense of space and time as a warm tongue started teasing his own, somehow making a perfect symphony with the roaming hands over his back and rear that sent shivers down his spine.  
  
“Do you feel better now?” Stavros’ rich voice rumbled into his ear once he finally let their lips part.

 

Nathaniel was speechless. He’d never felt anything like that in his life. It was all he could do to make a faint whine and rise up on his tip-toes, trying to initiate another kiss.  
  
“ _Ah, ah aah~_ ,” The Greek-Mexican boy teased, leaning his head back to the shorter boy could not reach. Releasing his warm grip on the other’s slender hips, he held his chin in place as he leaned forward to smile into Nathaniel’s ear. “If you want more, you will have to come see me in the Drama Production room later, yes?”

 

Trembling with desire, Nathaniel nodded, head foggy with thoughts of kissing and what Stavros had down to him at the front door of his apartment.

 

“Until we meet again, _mi cielo_ ,” Stavros purred, making his elegant exit. Once he was gone, Nathaniel slumped over the sink, blindly groping for the faucet and running it as cold as it would go before he splashed his face again. It did help to clear his head but he stayed hunched over the sink for quite some time, struggling to process what had just happened. Finally, he glanced up to his own eyes again. Taking a deep breath, he spread his eye again, jiggling the contact lens out of place and blinking hard to get it off his eye. Next thing he knew, he had the delicate, blue contact lens on the tip of his index finger, and his natural, brown-eyed reflection was blinking back at him for the first time he could remember.

 

That was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t remember putting the lenses in at all; he didn’t even remember that his eyes weren’t blue. Was it amnesia, or was he just going crazy? It made Nathaniel a little queasy to think about it.

 

He almost screamed in terror when one of the bathroom stalls behind him banged open and Weird Dan stepped out, deeply shadowed eyes full of their usual morbid judgement. He managed to make eye contact through the mirror’s reflection as he approach the sink next to Nathaniel.  


“ _K-konnichiwa_ ,” Nathaniel stammered without thinking, shaken.

  
Tropes’ resident performance artists didn’t exactly greet him back; he merely gave a tilt of his head. “Retail value, $66.60,” he muttered suddenly, staring intently at the limp contact lens before his eyes suddenly focused back on Nathaniel and he broke out into a creepy grin. “Sell them their dreams,” he said.  
  
Perturbed, Nathaniel turned back to his own reflection without saying anything else. Pursing his lips, he gathered his resolve, turned on the faucet and washed the KuriPretti lens down the drain.


	17. Nathaniel's New Accessory

Nathaniel would have liked to spend all of next period moping (perhaps by staring out of the window, or doodling crying eyes in the margins of his notebook) but unfortunately his next period was Ms. Fairwell’s English class, and he found himself paying the utmost attention to everything she said. In fact, by the time the next bell rang, Nathaniel had trouble thinking of anything at all except the importance of the cadence used to deliver a reading of Maya Angelou’s  _ The Mask _ . It was an incredibly important poem full of more pain than could be contained on a single page, but the cadence; the pacing, Ms. Fairwell said, set it apart in a way that could not be described. Yet although she did not describe it, Nathaniel still felt he understood what she meant, as though she’d said it without thinking. They all did; by the end of the class, a couple of students had nosebleeds.

 

“Look, honestly,” Kip said later that day in the cafeteria, waving a carrot stick around with a flourish before he took another bite. “I was just glad to hang out with someone who didn’t know about it, you know? The only time I ever really cover it up is picture day and oh man, I paid the price for that.”

 

Nathaniel pouted where he sat on the other side of the lunch table, frowning down at the wrapper he carefully peeled away from his protein bar. “I guess I understand,” he sniffed. “It just hurts, you know? There’s something really wrong with me, and I didn’t even know! And I would  _ never  _ tease you about something like that, Kip!” he cried, leaning forwards. “Not like…”

 

“Who, Brent?” Kip scoffed. “He’s an asshole, but at least he’s consistent. That whole ‘pizza face’ quip stopped stinging  _ years  _ ago. Nah, it’s some of these other bitches in here that you need to watch out for,” the boy’s cat-like eyes swept suspiciously over the crowd of artistic and athletic boys around them. “They’ll get you in ways you won’t expect. If I wasn’t the golden boy of Artisanry, I know half them wouldn’t even toe the line.”   
  
“That’s so sad,” Nathaniel whimpered, clutching his protein bar to his chest. He could feel his brown eyes watering up, but at least he didn’t have to worry about any living, sparkling contact lenses any more. “You really don’t have any other friends except for me?”

 

“Not really,” Kip shrugged with a crooked grin. 

 

Wailing, Nathaniel clambered up from the table and threw his arms around Kip’s shoulders. “Kip! I’ll never leave you!”

 

“Hey!” Kip laughed, putting up a mock protest for a few seconds before he gave in and hugged the smaller boy back. “Jeez, Nathaniel! It’s not  _ that  _ sad.”

 

Just then, Dudley rocked up with his lunch tray. “Wow guys, what’s all the--” he froze, eyes going wide when he saw Nathaniel’s tear-streaked face. “N-nathaniel,” he stammered. “Your eyes!”

 

Nathaniel sniffed. “It’s okay, Dudley,” he said gingerly, peeling himself away from Brent and sitting pretty on the edge of the table. “My eyes are meant to be like this. The blue was just contacts.”

 

“But your eyes have always been blue,” Dudley protested with a deep furrow in his brow.

 

“They were just contacts,” Nathaniel shrugged. “After all, I am Japanese.”

 

“Half Japanese and half French,” the basketball team fodder pouted.

 

“Am I?” Nathaniel noted dreamily, tilting his head as he picked up his protein bar again. “Oh, right, on my mother’s side. But that’s not really how genetics works, is it?” he chuckled, taking a bite, chewing and swallowing.

 

“Right,” the redhead said warily, taking a deep breath as he resolved himself to the reality of his best friend’s new look. “It’s cool, I guess. It’s not like eye colour matters, anyway.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Kip chimed in, dipping his carrot stick into a pot of hummus.

 

“Yeah!” Nathaniel chirped, wolfing down the rest of his protein bar. “We have more important things to talk about, like our next sleepover!”   
  
“Let’s do it at my house this time,” Kip said with a guilty grin. “It’s about time I returned the favour of hosting. My parents would totally let us, plus we always have good snacks.”    
  


“I still haven’t met your family, Kip,” Nathaniel said brightly, reaching for a carrot stick from his lunch tray. “What are they like?”   
  
“They’re nice,” Kip smiled with a sideways glance between the two guys. “Just a little intense. You’ll see what I mean when you meet them.”

 

“Is it the boat stuff?” Nathaniel asked, batting his eyelashes innocently.

 

“Yeah,” Kip sighed. He moved to run his fingers through his hair but his manicured nails just hit his new bantu knots. Clicking his tongue, he played with the colourful faux fur on his jacket instead.    
  
“Nothing!” Dudley protested, bringing his hands back above the table. A loud  _ thump _ below them made the pots of hummus rattle on their trays. Nathaniel, being very observant, surmised that it was probably Dudley’s sports bag hitting the floor. 

 

“Uh huh,” Kip quirked his eyebrows, looking less than impressed. “So are you coming tonight or what? Maybe we can send you to the store to pick up some soda or something. You’ve got long legs.”

 

“I’d love to,” Dudley said with a fixed grin. “But. I can’t. Coach has got all of the team fodder running drills after school, then I have to uh, help my mom make Cornish pasties.” 

 

“What’s that?” Nathaniel asked. Even a boy as cultured as he had not heard of such a thing. Judging by the way Dudley’s face was growing red, he worried maybe it was something embarrassing. Or perhaps he was just having trouble on the basketball team.   
  
“It’s an Irish thing,” Dudley answered, blushing.    
  
“That’s a shame,” Kip said, somewhat insincerely as he dragged another carrot stick through the pot of hummus. “But there’ll be other sleepovers. I’m sure the group will survive if you’re not at every single one.”

 

“That’s right!” Nathaniel said brightly, balling his fists with enthusiasm. “Don’t sweat it, Dudley! You can focus on yourself right now and we’ll all have another sleepover later.”

 

“Thanks, Nathaniel,” Dudley smiled, ripping the lid off his pudding cup. “You’re a real friend. Kip, I’ll see you around.” Rising from the table, he hauled the heavy gym bag up over his shoulder and walked away, carrying the pudding cup with him as though it were a Starbucks latté. 

 

Kip watched him leave with a skeptical expression. “Something’s not right with that boy,” he said, pursing his lips.

 

“Kip!” Nathaniel gasped, leaning forward and speaking with a hushed voice. “Be nice. He’s just like that. Dudley’s always had trouble with um, social stuff.”   
  
“Mmm-hmm,” Kip hummed with a frown. “There’s awkward, and then there’s just evasive. I’m telling you, he’s hiding something from us.”

 

“I think he might just be having trouble with his athletics,” Nathaniel mused, biting his lip as he tapped the tips of his index fingers together. “He is only team fodder, after all. It must be hard to stay out of the limelight so much.”   
  
“If you say so,” Kip sighed, reaching for his apple juice. As he took a pensive sip through the straw, he made eye contact with the smaller boy and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “But low key,” he added after swallowing, “I’m glad it’s just us tonight. We can do each other’s nails!”

 

Nathaniel had to admit it sounded exciting, and definitely not something his lanky friend would be into. “Okay!” he grinned. “What time should I come over?”

 

“Any time after five is fine. Mom knows I have homework to do so she’ll be cool with the sleepover as long as I’ve put aside some time for study.”   
  
“Mmm,” Nathaniel hummed. “I should do the same thing. I spend most of my time at school in the sewing room, so it can be hard to find time for my homework. I get a little carried away with costume design.”   
  
“A little?!” Kip laughed, causing the smaller boy to pout.   
  
The two agreed that they’d do some homework before Nathaniel would go over to Kip’s house in the fancy part of town along the coast. Kip wrote the address on a sheet of loose leaf paper so Nathaniel would know where to go, but as the Japanese boy carefully made his way down the school corridor towards the lockers, he wondered how he was going to get that far. He supposed he could take the bus or something since he wasn’t exactly in fit condition to walk for miles. He was pondering the best course of action when a hand suddenly snatched the piece of paper out of his hand, causing him to scream.   
  
“Yoink!” Brent laughed.

 

“Brent!” Nathaniel cried indignantly, trying and failing to take the paper back. Just when his fingers came close, Brent ducked and a broad shoulder came up under Nathaniel’s middle just as a strong hand wrapped around his waist. Nathaniel found himself hoisted up over the swimmer’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Wailing, he kicked his feet but it didn’t do anything except make Brent laugh.   
  
“Those protein bars sure haven’t kicked in,” Brent snickered, spinning around effortlessly and strolling towards their lockers.   
  
“Let me down!” Nathaniel cried, balling his fists. “I have to get to the Drama room!”

 

“Gross,” Brent commented automatically, spinning Nathaniel’s combination and flicking the piece of paper into his open locker before he turned to his own locker sporting the Tropedoes emblem. “You should really get out more. There’s fresh air in the quad, you know.”   
  
“I have  _ so  _ many costumes to make it’s not even funny!” Nathaniel huffed, watching Brent open his locker and fish out a few books and stack them on top of the lockers. “Every minute counts!”   
  
“You’re such a nerd,” Brent drawled, plucking Nathaniel’s bottle of pills from his locker shelf. Finally, the smaller boy was set back down on his own two feet, face flushed pink with embarrassment. When the muscular boy presented his dose of pills, Nathaniel all but snatched them out of his palm like a hungry piranha before making a dash towards the Drama room. He was promptly hoiked backwards by a hand grabbing the scruff of his shirt.   
  
“Not so fast,” Brent growled, hauling Nathaniel back without much difficulty. “If you’re going to be hanging around Enrique, you’re wearing this.”   
  
“What?” Nathaniel questioned before a hoodie was unceremoniously pulled over his head. With a muffled yelp, his thin arms scrambled to worm their way through the baggy arm holes. Looking down, the boy wrinkled his nose at the sight of the same torpedo emblem that was on Brent’s locker. It was a swim club hoodie.   
  
“It smells of chlorine!” he complained.   
  
“You’re wearing it,” Brent said with a warning grimace. “If I find out you took it off, there’ll be trouble, you got that?”   
  
“Fine!” Nathaniel snapped, grabbing his things from his locker. “But I gotta go  _ now _ !”

 

Brent was  _ so  _ weird! Nathaniel was pouting to himself the whole trip to the Drama room. Every time he seemed to be doing something just a little bit nice, he did something weird again to mess it up. It was like he was keeping count, or something. Nathaniel also notices that the sight of an artistic boy in an athlete’s hoodie was certainly drawing some perturbed looks from other students as he passed by.

 

“Oh my  _ god _ !” A familiar voice rang out in the hall, causing Nathaniel to wince.   
  
“Nathaniel,” Layken called, pulling River in tow as they bum-rushed him before he could make it to the auditorium doors. “Is that a  _ Tropedoes  _ uniform? What is happening right now?! I can’t even.”

 

“I can’t even, either,” River parroted. 

 

“Um,” Nathaniel responded with shy frustration. “Yes.”

 

“Is this the next logical step in the sporty chic wave?!” Layken asked intensely, grabbing Nathaniel byu the shoulders and leaning close. “I have to know!”   
  
“Uhm,” Nathaniel whimpered nervously, trying to take a step back. It was like he could hear the seconds of wasted time ticking in his head. “I really can’t talk about it right now, I…”

 

A third arm wrapped around Nathaniel’s slim shoulders and he felt more claustrophobic than he ever had in his life.

 

“Nathaniel!” Stavros’ caramel voice purred into his ear, thrusting a red rose into his face. It didn’t smell much like a rose, though; it seemed to have been spritzed with the Drama Prefect’s trademark cologne. “I’d recognise that exquisite purple streak anywhere. What has waylaid you on your way to my cla-- _ haaaa! _ ” The senior cut off with a dramatic gasp as he noticed the Tropedoes hoodie the boy was wearing, recoiling as though burned.

 

Nathaniel, feeling weak at the knees all of a sudden, could only blink stupidly and swoon in reply. Class… he had to get to class. There was sewing to be done. 

 

“Nathaniel!” Stavros cried, shoving Layken out of the way and grabbing his shoulders instead, shaking him. “What is the meaning of this? Say it isn’t so, my love!”

 

“I have to go…” Nathaniel grumbled, trying to shake the groggy feeling from his head. It felt like there was a warmth spreading across his chest. The hoodie didn’t exactly help him cool off. Could it be a fever? Instinctively, he ducked his head so the baggy neckline of the hoodie covered his nose like a makeshift face mask. That way, the germs couldn’t spread. It was a very Japanese thing to do.

 

“Hey! Are you serious right now?!” Layken snapped, indignant. “I asked him first! 

 

“You fools!” Stavros barked over his shoulder. “That’s no ordinary hoodie! That brute, Brent Butcherson is behind this!”

 

Realisation dawns on Layken and River’s faces with a mix of awe and horror. “It’s not fashion,” Layken said gravely, barely able to shake his head with the weight of the truth.

 

“He’s got an  _ athletic boyfriend _ ?!” River all but shrieked, phone already in his hand and tweeting out of sheer reflex. 

 

Inside the hoodie reeked of chlorine but it helped Nathaniel think clearly. The moment that Stavros released him to round on the artistic duo, scolding them about jumping to wild conclusions, Nathaniel turned away and made a beeline to the auditorium doors, smoothly trotting down the steps at a fairly impressive speed for someone with his condition. When he reached the sewing room, he calmly locked the door behind him. The other members of the Drama Production class who had volunteered to help him were already there waiting for him, rather nervously. Nathaniel wriggled his way out of the hoodie neck, taking a breath of fresh air.

 

“ _ O mata se shite sumimasendeshita _ ,” Nathaniel apologised neatly, bowing. The others in the group bowed in reply, going back to their assigned tasks as the smaller boy breezed towards the crowning glory of the room: the industrial-grade Majori Corp sewing machine. The  _ Korlamity X  _ production had a lot of costumes to make and if they were going to be of an acceptable quality and completed with time to spare for the dress rehearsal, then efficiency was key.

 

“Uh, mister Nathaniel, sir,” one of the other students interrupted him a short while later. “Stavros is knocking at the door. Should I let him in? He sounds kinda… upset.”

 

“No,” Nathaniel replied serenely, not missing a beat in the seams he was running on the machine. After that, the boy lost track of time until another boy asked for permission to leave. Glancing up at the clock, Nathaniel saw that the school day was over. 

 

“Yes,” he replied cordially, looking over the progress they had made on the garments with some satisfaction. “Good job, everyone.”

 

When they opened the door to go back out into the auditorium, it revealed two things: firstly, Brent Butcherson waiting with his hands on his hips. Secondly, a rather disheveled (albeit still sexy) Stavros slumped tragically over some of the audience seats, sucking mournfully on a cigarette. It became apparent that the fire alarm wasn’t going to go off any time soon when he exhaled a plume of hazelnut-scented vapour instead of tobacco smoke. It was an e-cig. 

 

“Beast,” Stavros hurled the curse in Brent’s direction, looking hurt. “You’re an absolute beast.”

 

Brent, for his part, ignored the boy. His sharp eyes immediately noted that Nathaniel was still wearing the swim team hoodie, and he gave a satisfied nod before he reached for the boy’s hand. “Come on, Nathaniel,” he said, perhaps slightly louder than necessary and with a pointed look in Stavros’ direction. He waited until they got closer before he added. “ _ I’ll drive you home _ .”

 

“ _ Mi amor _ !” The Greek-Mexican boy wailed, covering his eyes with the crook of his elbow as they departed.

 

Brent grinned to the smaller boy as they made their way up the theatre stairs. “Word on Twatter is we’re hot shit,” he sniggered. “Half the school’s saying we’re the new power couple.”

 

The words knocked the last remaining work focus out of Nathaniel’s head. “P-power couple?!” he stammered. His first instinct was to wriggled his hand free from Brent’s warm grip, but the swimsuit model held it tight.

 

“Yep,” he said, leaning closer with a leer, replacing the hand hold with a strong arm around the boy’s shoulders as they walked through the hall. “And I like the sound of it, so you’re just gonna have to deal with it. You’re welcome.”

 

“B-but,” Nathaniel tried to protest, but all Brent did was kiss him on the forehead as they passed by a pair of freshman. This, of course, triggered some scandalised gasps and furious whispers as the boys ran off. Nathaniel let out a defeated whine.   
  
“You could do worse,” Brent purred confidently. “Plus I’m offering to drive you around, so don’t act like there’s no perks to dating the hottest guy in school.”

 

Nathaniel sniffed. “Will you drive me to Kip’s house, after?” he asked with a pout. “I have the address but I don’t know how I’m supposed to get there. I really shouldn’t use my grocery money for a taxi, and taking the bus alone seems a little… dangerous.” Nathaniel had a creeping suspicion that he had more enemies than he thought. Like Edwin von Kurzstapel, for one.

 

“Sure,” Brent smirked. “I don’t have any jobs tonight. We can even make a detour and have ourselves a little date, first.”

 

“But I’ve gotta do my homework!” Nathaniel cried.

 

“Then it’s a study date,” Brent said gruffly, arm tightening around Nathaniel’s shoulders. It looked like he didn’t really have any choice in the matter. 


	18. Nathaniel's Handkerchief

Nathaniel had to admit, it was a lot faster and more comfortable cruising home in Brent’s Miata than it was walking or talking the bus. Less stressful, too, since Brent couldn’t jump out of nowhere and scare him if he was already sitting right there in the driver’s seat. Still, he kept a careful watch on his knee just in case the swimmer’s hand made any moves for it. After the rough week he’d had, he wasn’t sure his heart could take any more shocks.

 

“So what homework do you have to do?” Brent asked casually as they walked up the stairs to Aunt Marjorie’s apartment.

 

“Uhm,” Nathaniel hummed, going over the list in his head. “I’m pretty much on top of my English homework; the lessons are so thorough that I can just jot it out in homeroom. I have a few math sheets I have to do by Thursday, so I’ll probably do those.”

 

“Haha,” Brent teased. “Sucks to be you. I get enough math credits from Nutritional Science that I don’t have to take math-math.”

 

“Nutritional Science?” Nathaniel blinked, looking over his shoulder in confusion before unlocking the front door.

 

“Food stuff. Calories and meal-planning, aerobic and anaerobic respiration. Practically every jock takes that class instead of nerd math,” Brent explained, following Nathaniel inside and making a beeline for the kitchen. He opened the fridge with a sigh, noting how the contents had barely changed since his last visit. “I wish you took it, too.”

 

“I have food recommended by my doctor,” Nathaniel pouted defensively, setting his satchel down on the counter and crossing the living room space to the laundrette.

 

“Those horrible protein bars aren’t gonna cut it,” Brent scoffed. “You need leafy greens and stuff, like spinach, and kale.”

 

“I guess I could ask Aunt Marjorie if it’s okay to get groceries delivered,” Nathaniel mused. “I usually don’t buy much since it’s hard for me to carry heavy bags.”

 

“Pretty sick aunt if she says no to that,” Brent wrinkled his nose. Pulling a carrot out of the fridge, he bit off the end with a _crunch_ and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Nathaniel standing next to the washing machine. “What are you doing?”

 

Maintaining eye contact with the athletic boy, Nathaniel pulled the hoodie over his header and then dropped it into the washing machine.

 

Brent frowned, watching as the smaller boy started a wash cycle. “... Fine,” he grumbled.

 

“I’m going to take a shower to get rid of the chlorine smell,” Nathaniel stuck out his tongue. Looking between his left and right, he decided to use the main bathroom instead of the en suite in his bedroom. The main difference being that while his bedroom door only had a snip lock, the main bathroom had a deadbolt, too. Who knew what Brent might try after the way he was talking earlier that day?! Right now, he seemed innocent enough, chewing his carrot as he pulled some books out of his backpack… but Nathaniel still had his suspicions. He narrowed his eyes and shut the bathroom door, sliding the deadbolt into place.

 

It was a brief and uneventful shower. That was, until, the art student heard Brent’s cry through the door as he was towel drying his hair.

 

“ _Nathaniel, what the fuck?!_ ”

 

There was a pounding on the bathroom door that gave him a fright. Clutching his chest, he winced and scrambled for his boxer briefs and shorts. There was no way he was going out there without pants again!

 

“Just a minute!” he called out, only to be answered with more pounding. When he opened the door, he was greeted by an irate-looking jock with a stained handkerchief in one hand.

 

“Please tell me this is some art project or something,” Brent said with an angry but weary look in his eye. Nathaniel looked to the cloth and blushed as he recognised the messaged scrawled across it in red.

 

_DON’T TRUST ANYONE YOU REMEMBER_

 

He’d left that in his room after he’d found it and tried to forget about it. He gasped as he realise that Brent had gone snooping in his room while he was showering. “H-hey!” he cried, indignant. “You were in my room!”

 

“You’re god-damn right I was,” Brent huffed, stomping back towards the bedroom. Startling, Nathaniel skittered after him, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and shame. He knew the karma of sneaking into Brent’s room would come back to haunt him eventually; he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon, or so fitting.

 

“Your stupid closet door almost closed on me!” Brent snapped.

 

Looking to where Brent was pointing, Nathaniel noted that the opening to his second closet was closed again, the wall seamlessly back into place. If Nathaniel had to guess, and his guesses were often right because he was very observant and had a great sense of intuition, it had probably snapped shut once Brent’s presence had been detected and identified as unauthorised access.

 

“Oh,” Nathaniel clicked his tongue. “You have to open it like this.” Turning to his mirror, he stared into it for a few moments, holding his big, brown eyes open. There was a pleasant chime as the wall panel slid open again to reveal his second closet. This time around, Nathaniel even heard a quiet, feminine announcement play: ‘ _Okaerinasai, Goshujin-sama_.’

 

Brent’s jaw was close to the floor. “What the _fuck_?!” he said again, gesturing to the small room with an open palm. “Why do you have that?!”

 

“I don’t know,” Nathaniel shrugged. “It’s just here. I do like these clothes, though.” Breezing past the bigger boy, he hummed happily as he rifled through the racks to pick out something to wear to Kip’s house later that night.

 

Dumbstruck, Brent sat down heavily on the boy’s bed and watched him patter about. “Incredible,” he scoffed. “How can anyone be so oblivious?”

 

“I’m very observant, actually,” the smaller boy chimed back, pulling a garment off the rack. The cut seemed similar to his NY kimono, but the fabric was a bold and colourful print that seemed to be a collage of elements from retro comic books, dominant colours red, yellow, green and black. The tie for it was bright yellow. He also found a pair of loose, crimson pants that reminded him of the tear-drop silhouettes he’d designed for the _Korlamity X_ soldiers. Definite yes.

 

“Well, what about this, then?” Brent complained, waving the handkerchief with a scowl. “Who is it that you can’t trust? I’ll break their fuckin’ nose.”

 

“That’s the thing,” Nathaniel furrowed his brow as he looked over his hair in the mirror, using his hand to scrunch up his unique, purple streak. “... I think I might dye my hair, after all.” It would be fine for tonight, he supposed. He could use some product to give it a tousled look.

 

“Nathaniel!” Brent pressed, voice gaining a warning tone.

 

The boy sighed and turned to the swimmer-slash-swimsuit model. “There isn’t really anyone I remember,” he pouted. “The whole school is so new to me, and I’ve never really been that popular. Even the people who say they know me seem like total strangers.” He grimaced, thinking of Edwin in particular. He really didn’t think it was right that a boy like him should have an evil mad genius as an arch nemesis.

 

“...So, it’s just some emo art project thing,” Brent reasoned, looking down at the handkerchief again. At least he seemed calmer, this time.

 

“Maybe,” Nathaniel shrugged again, rifling through his drawers and pulling out a fresh pair of boxer briefs. “Turn around, please.”

 

Brent narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, folding his arms defiantly.

 

“Brent,” Nathaniel said, heart fluttering as he froze where he was standing, suddenly feeling like there was a spotlight.

 

“Your stupid door nearly killed me,” Brent argued. “I’m not going or looking anywhere.”

 

“You shouldn’t have been in my room!” Nathaniel cried, cheeks turning bright pink. He couldn’t seriously expect him to change right in front of him, could he?

 

“Just do it,” Brent dared him, leaning back on his hands. “I do it all the time - I’m a swimmer _and_ a model. Being almost naked in front of other people is basically my job.”

 

“Well, it’s not mine!” Nathaniel pouted. After a few more tense moments under Brent’s smirking gaze, he huffed and turned to the side, stripping his boxers down and hurrying into his new ones as quick as a flash. His embarrassment as he adjusted the fit wasn’t helped by Brent’s laughter.

 

“You didn’t ‘observe’ that you could have just gone into a different room,” Brent noted smugly.

 

Screaming, Nathaniel snatched up his old boxers and pitched them at Brent’s face. His delicate features snapped into an arrangement of shock when the wad of fabric hit the swimmer square in the face. He hadn’t expected them to hit him; he didn’t even take general gym, after all.

 

Brent grimaced, peeling the fabric away with his thumb and forefinger and casting a disparaging look at the waistband. “These aren’t even designer,” he said, wadding the fabric up and tossing them back. “Do better.”

 

Even though it was a fairly tame toss, Nathaniel couldn’t help but flinch anyway. The boxers his his hip and flopped to the floor. “Not _everything_ has to be designer, Brent!” he fumed, balling his fists.

 

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Brent said dryly. “You’ve easily got about a hundred grand’s worth of couture in that other bedroom.”

 

Aunt Marjorie’s storage! Nathaniel gave a gasp of betrayal. “Just how much of my apartment did you snoop around in?!”

 

“Enough,” Brent replied breezily, scratching his stomach as he flopped back on Nathaniel’s bed with a contented sigh. “The glow in the dark stars are a bit kiddy, aren’t they?” he asked, looking at the decorations on the ceiling.

 

Nathaniel was about to scream. Seeing Brent and his stupid sculpted abs rumpling his favourite bedspread and insulting his quirky decor was… it was… well, it was doing something, and he didn’t like it! “Get out of my room, Brent!” he yelled, storming over and tugging at one of the boy’s ankles. Of course, his stupid muscular body didn’t shift an inch with Nathaniel’s efforts. It was just infuriating the way he broke out into a wider smile!

 

“ _Yarô!_ ” he swore, throwing down the offending foot in disgust. Fuming to himself as he pulled on his pants and pulled the kimono up his arms, he spied Brent sitting up out of the corner of his eye, watching him curiously.

 

“Hey,” Brent called. “What was that word? You like, never speak any Japanese.”

 

“I’m not telling you,” Nathaniel said haughtily, pulling his kimono ties tight around his waist. “I’m going to go do my homework. You can just stay in here, if you want to be so difficult.” He could practically feel the frost on his shoulder as he flounced out of the room in a huff.

 

“Aw, Nathaniel!” Brent complained, soon following after him. At least it got the muscle-headed jerk out of his room. Nathaniel didn’t answer him as he padded over to the kitchen table and pulled his math homework out of his book bag, taking a seat. He got about two math problems in before Brent sidled up to him, holding a half-eaten carrot near his mouth.   
  
“C’mon, Nathaniel, don’t be mad,” Brent wheedled. Pressing his lips together tightly, Nathaniel turned his head away sharply with a hum of rejection. Brent grumbled and went back to the kitchen. Another math equation later, Nathaniel smelled strawberries and looked up to see one of his protein bars unwrapped for him. Now that was a much more appetising offer. Thinking about it for a moment, he leaned forward and took a bite, taking his time chewing before swallowing.

 

“...It means you’re a jerk,” he finally explained matter-of-factually.

 

“I guess that’s fair,” Brent clicked his tongue, holding the protein bar so the smaller boy could take it before he grabbed his book and took a seat opposite him at the table.   
  
“No,” Nathaniel stuck out his tongue. “You should have been nicer to me.”   
  
“Tch,” Brent scoffed. “Whatever.” After that, he opened his book and began to study. Taking another bite of his protein bar, Nathaniel watched him carefully for a little while but it really did seem like he was studying for real. Once he was done eating, he set the wrapper aside and went back to his math homework. The hour or so didn’t exactly pass quickly, but it wasn’t eventful, either. Just a nice, normal study session and then a quick hairstyle touch-up before Nathaniel threw some things in an overnight bag and followed Brent out of the apartment.

 

“So he lives along the coast, right?” Brent frowned. “Do you have an address?”

 

“Oh, yes.” Nathaniel fished the address Kip had written down for him and passed it to the boy. Brent gave a low whistle when he saw it.

“Wow,” he raised his eyebrows. “Kip’s family must be _loaded_.”

 

“He did say his family own a lot of boats,” Nathaniel said. “I remember when we went shopping at _La Protagoniste_.”

 

“He’s _Protagoniste_ -rich? Damn,” Brent stuck his hands in his pockets as they descended the steps to the car park. “I don’t have the means to shop there. I make good money, but it’s kind of cancelled out by the fact that I have to support myself, you know?”

 

“Don’t feel bad,” Nathaniel shrugged, hopping into the passenger seat of the Miata. “I don’t either. Kip had to spot me.”

 

Nathaniel knew it would be expensive, but he still wasn’t entirely sure what to expect when it came to Kip Bahari’s house. From the way he talked about his parent, a small part of him worried that he might live in a giant, hollowed-out cruise liner. When they pulled up at the prescribed address, however, it was just a big, lovely mansion; the kind with huge bay windows, patios and an observatory. The colour scheme was rather beachy (a sandstone render with a handsome, navy-blue roof) but it was all very tasteful, in Nathaniel’s fashionable opinion. It could have been much worse: there could have been a seashell mosaic on the front door.

 

“Hiiiiiiee,” Kip greeted them at the door, a pink-orange smoothie already in hand. He seemed to have toned his outfit down for being at home, having changed into blue denim shorts and a golden-rod yellow, v-neck tunic (or was it a poncho?) with an intricate geometric pattern weaved in burnt umber, and tassels along the edge of the draping sleeves.

 

“Kip! Your house is amazing!” Nathaniel squeaked, hopping up the steps and rising up on his tip-toes in excitement. “We should have had a sleepover here sooner!”

 

“I guess it is pretty great,” Kip pretended to brush dust off his shoulder with a self-confident smile. His eyebrow quirked as he looked down the steps and saw Brent Butcherson. “Uhm,” he piped up, pulling a pair of purple-tinted sunglasses down from his forehead to cover his eyes. “What are _you_ doing here?”

 

“Nathaniel forgot his bag,” Brent said gruffly, holding out the purple, star-printed overnight bag.

 

“Oh my god, so nice of you,” Kip simpered with false sincerity as he stepped forward and plucked the bag out of Brent’s grip, passing it to the shortest boy. His hand moved to Nathaniel’s shoulder, gently guiding him back towards the threshold of the Bahari mansion. “Unfortunately this sleepover is exclusive and invite-only, so no Brents allowed. We’re going to a bunch of artistic and girly and non-butch things. Soooo… byeee-ee,” Kip grinned, giving the boy a little wave.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Brent grumbled, briefly flipping Kip the bird before he turned and swaggered back to his Miata.

 

“Come on, Nathaniel,” Kip snickered, beaming. “Let’s get you a smoothie.”


	19. Nathaniel's Revelations

Kip slung Nathaniel’s bag over his shoulder and breezed down an elegant white-tiled hallway towards the back of the mansion. Having shorter legs, Nathaniel almost had to jog to keep up with his friend so he didn’t have much time to take in the decor, but he only really needed an instant to see when Kip was coming from about his parents’ whole ‘boat-crazy’ thing. A huge anchor leaned nonchalantly against the mouth of the staircase (did that count as a sculpture, or was it just a real anchor laying around?) and it didn’t stop there: when they reached the large, open-plan kitchen, Nathaniel was greeted by two smiling faces and a humongous ship-in-a-bottle hanging, suspended, over the top of a floating island bench scattered with a colourful array of smoothie ingredients.

 

“ _ Mama, Baba _ ,” Kip announced, ushering Nathaniel through the glass french doors, “This is Nathaniel.”

 

“Ohh, Nathaniel!” the woman who was certainly Kip’s mother exclaimed wistfully, setting down her smoothie on the counter and stepping forward with her arms outstretched. “Skipper has told me so much about you!”

 

Her arms jangled loudly, due to an absolute hoard of bracelets in varying materials and quality of craftsmanship but all of them featuring waves, boats, anchors or seafaring motifs of some kind. In the fleeting moment Nathaniel had to take in the sight before both of his cheeks were pinched, he realised he was looking at a historical series of jewellery pieces that Kip had made for his mother. No wonder he was exasperated with the idea of using ocean-y subject matter in his artisanry work at school.

 

“H-hello Mrs. Bahari,” Nathaniel greeted her as best he could with his cheeks being manipulated. Kip, noticing his friend’s distress, gently guided his mother’s hands away by tugging at her elbow.

 

“ _ Mama _ ,” the taller boy nagged, “You promised you wouldn’t scare him!”

 

“I am not scaring him,” Kip’s mother clucked, switching to patting Nathaniel on the shoulder instead. “And you can call me Shani, Nathaniel,” the woman added fondly. “Mrs. Bahari is my mother’s name!”

 

“Hello S-shani,” Nathaniel greeted the woman again with a sweet little smile. It felt strange to call a friend’s mother by their first name. He wasn’t used to getting this much physical affection, either; not since the hawk had taken his hamster.

 

(Author’s note: RIP Mr. Squeaks.)

 

“And I am Chandu,” Kip’s father joined in, joining his wife and mercifully guiding a smoothie back into her hand so she let the smaller boy go. 

 

“Hello,” Nathaniel chimed, trying very hard to overcome his inherent shyness. He thought he was safe for a moment before Chandu suddenly lifted his tiny frame into the air in a one-armed hug. “Oh!” he cried, trying to laugh off his surprise. “

 

Shani chuckled. “Yes,” she admitted, not without a swell of pride in her chest. “We take a sloop around the harbour almost every day. Have you ever been on a boat, Nathaniel?”

 

Kip cleared his throat rather pointedly but his mother ignored him. Truly, Nathaniel didn’t mind much; it was only polite conversation.

 

“Only a gondola,” Nathaniel recalled, tapping his chin with an index finger. “We were in Venice for… um, I guess it was a family vacation.”

 

“Ohh,” Chandu hummed dreamily, taking his wife’s hand, “we haven’t been to Venice since our bronze wedding anniversary. Kip was only small then. Do you remember, honey?”

 

Shani hummed, patting her husband on the chest. Nathaniel noted, quite keenly, that Kip’s father was wearing a navy blue daishiki with a white print featuring waves and turtles. A fabric like that almost certainly custom-made, especially judging by the thread count. “I like your shirt.”

 

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Chandu said with a rich laugh. “We picked it up on our last cruise through the Mediterranean. There is a business there who makes fabrics for us. It is Skipper’s favourite.” The man reached out and pinched Kip’s cheek as he spoke. Evidently, the Bahari family were quite touchy-feely. Nathaniel almost felt jealous, but judging by the way Kip seemed to be barely tolerating the embarrassment coupled with the use of his full name, the Japanese boy supposed he wouldn’t miss it quite so much if he were exposed to it all the time.

 

“Come,” Shani took Nathaniel by the wrist and tugged him towards the island bench. “Let’s get you a smoothie before Skipper steals you away for the rest of the night.”

 

Kip rolled his eyes but he seemed happy enough when he joined the rest of them at the kitchen bench, grabbing his own glass which was half full of a brilliantly purple liquid. He took a sip through an elaborate straw before he spoke. “It’s dragonfruit and raspberry,” he explained. “It’s the best!”

 

“Are you just saying that because it’s purple?” Nathaniel asked with a gleam in his dark brown eyes.

 

“Well, that too,” Kip said with a guilty grin as he carefully opened a tiny paper umbrella and popped it into the glass his father had just poured. He passed the glass into Nathaniel’s hands. “Here, try some!”   
  
Nathaniel took a curious sip through a green crazy straw, his eyes widening with a pleased hum as the sweet drink reached his tongue. “Mm!” he swallowed before speaking. “This is really good, Kip!” 

 

“Of course it is,” Kip said breezily. “I have excellent taste. Now come on,” his wide hand planted on Nathaniel’s should and steered him back towards the hallway. “Let’s go up to my room.”   
  
They only made it five paces before Mrs. Bahari’s voice froze them in their tracks. “Skipper,” she called after them in a warning tone. “Are you going to be using a coaster for those smoothies now?”   
  
Kip winced. “ _ Yes _ , mama,” he replied breathlessly, giving Nathaniel another nudge towards the door. “Come on, Nathaniel!”

 

The pair of boys stole up the staircase to the second level of the Bahari mansion, being very careful not to spill their highly pigmented smoothies along the way. When Kip reached a noticeably purple door in amongst the beach-house decor, he took a moment to collect himself, his chest puffing out with pride.  

 

“Brace yourself,” he said smugly. “My room’s pretty good.” Without another word, he threw the door open with a flourish.

 

Nathaniel didn’t quite know what to expect after such a grand introduction. If he had to guess, he would have supposed his friend had some kind of fancy four-poster bed with curtains like they had in princess movies (mainly on account of how wealthy Kip’s family was) but the reality was so much more ‘Kip’ than he ever could have imagined.

 

“Kip!” the boy exclaimed breathlessly, rushing into the bedroom to get a better look. Kip’s bedroom wasn’t just purple; it was an absolute explosion of colour. More than twice the size of Nathaniel’s own room, the young jeweler hadn’t wasted any space when it came to the decor. While Nathaniel did notice a workshop set up along one wall, the focal point was clearly the queen-sized bed set up in the far corner, near a massive bay window. A floating, rectangular frame was suspended above it, supporting a princes canopy made not out of the traditional netting, but reams of fabric in dozens of different designs. Their variety surpassed even Nathaniel’s broad knowledge of patterns; at a glance, he recognised traditional African, Mediterranean and Southeast Asian motifs, but he was sure there were far more nuances between the fabrics than that. In fact, looking around the room, he couldn’t even spot the same kind of fabric used twice. Every single wall hanging, throw pillow, blanket and bohemian rug was unique. 

 

“You’re so luckyyy~” the smaller boy whined, envious.

 

“I thought you’d like it,” Kip grinned, strolling in after his gawking friend. “One of the perks of having parents who never shut up about boats is we’ve been to just about every port town on earth. I always got souvenirs, but I only really started collecting the fabrics a few years ago when I’d developed my ‘eye’.”

 

Nathaniel nodded eagerly in agreement. “It’s amazing, Kip!” he enthused, rounding on the workbench on the other side of the room. “And is this your political statement piece for your Fine Jewellery class?”

 

“Sure is,” Kip said, walking over. At the centre of the bench was the beginnings of a very large, flat, collar-like necklace made out of wire threaded with brightly-coloured glass beads. However, the necklace wasn’t joined up yet. 

 

“What’s going to join it up?” Nathaniel asked, curious.

 

“Oh uh, here, wait,” Kip paused, setting down his smoothie on top of some papers and pulling open a drawer, “It’s kind of like, symbolic that the necklace stays open, you know? So one side will be finished, and the other side is going to sort of deteriorate down to raw wire and be physically soldered to this.” The boy pulled a large, weathered manacle out of the drawer, the weight of it apparent in his hand. It still had one or two links of thick chain attached.

 

Nathaniel’s eyes grew wide as he remembered that his friend had bid on a real pair of slave shackles and had it melted down into wire. “That’s horrible,” he gasped. 

 

“Yeah, but I bet there’s some neo-nazi dirtbag eating his heart out somewhere down South,” Kip grinned. “Getting me an A is a way better use for these than sitting in some racist’s nostalgia dungeon.”

  
“It  _ is  _ very political,” Nathaniel noted, taking a pensive sip of his smoothie. “Are you going to model it yourself?”

 

“Yep,” Kip said proudly. “I might even have another piece of wire coming up and through my nose piercing hole if the concept photographs well.”

 

“You’re so talented,” Nathaniel sighed, overcome by a sudden bout of melancholy.

 

“Yeah,” Kip agreed, quirking his eyebrows. “But what’s up, though?”

 

“I’m not doing so well in Life Drawing,” Nathaniel admitted sheepishly, playing with the straw in his glass. “Mr. Goodwill says my proportions are still too stylised but no matter what I try, the figures keep coming out the same way!”

 

“Jeez, Nathaniel,” Kip chuckled. “You can’t be perfect at everything. Besides, aren’t you nailing it in Drama Production? You’ve practically got the other kids organised like a real company.”

  
“I know, but,” Nathaniel fussed, “I’m kind of an overachiever, you know? It doesn’t feel good when I don’t do well.”

 

“I guess I understand,” Kip mused, looking over the shelves next to his workbench which seemed to showcase some of his finest work, not to mention a few pieces that Nathaniel had already seen the boy wear at school. “I’d be pretty upset if I wasn’t good at making jewellery all of a sudden. But is drawing even like, your main thing? You seem to be way more into sewing.”

 

“It’s just something I want to do,” Nathaniel said, feeling a determined heat rise in his cheeks. “Besides, Tropes doesn’t have a fashion course. Unless you count Drama Production, I guess.”

 

“Well, it’s your choice,” Kip shrugged, wandering across his room to a bunch of floor cushions piled up near a low table. Draping himself across one of the piles, he set down his smoothie on one of the coasters waiting on the table before he spoke again. “Let’s talk about something a little more fun, though. Like your little study date with  _ Brent  _ this afternoon,” he grinned.

 

Nathaniel bit his lip, suddenly worrying if he was being a downer. Not that the news about his so-called study date with Brent was much better. “W-wait,” he stammered as he walked over, “how did you know about that?!”

 

Kip laughed. “Word travels fast at Tropes,” he chuckled. “You’re the new power couple, to boot. I’m sure Stavros is crushed about that, but personally I’d take a swimmer’s build over charming words any day.”

 

Nathaniel gave a squeaking little huff as he positioned one floor cushion before the table and knelt on it, frowning as he set his smoothie down. He couldn’t do anything in that stupid school without being part of some new gossip! “It wasn’t exactly an ideal ‘date’,” he complained. “First, he got all upset about a stupid handkerchief I had laying around, then he tricked me into flashing him my butt!”

 

“Okay, hold up,” Kip said, holding up a finger. “There’s a lot to unpack there. I hate to ask about this first, but how could a  _ handkerchief  _ piss off Brent Butcherson? Did it has Stavros’ initials on it or something.”

 

“Gosh, no,” Nathaniel squirmed at the mere thought of such a stressful situation. “I don’t remember getting it, but at some point I must have written ‘DON’T TRUST ANYONE YOU REMEMBER’ on a handkerchief and left it in the back of my closet. It’s weird, but he freaked out like it was a horror movie or something.”

 

“That does some pretty weird,” Kip agreed with a grimace, reaching for his smoothie again. “Why would you write something like that?”

 

“I don’t  _ know _ ,” Nathaniel whined, bouncing up and down slightly where he knelt. He’d already been over this with Brent! “Everyone at this school is brand new to me! Literally the only person I remember is Dudley, and he’s my best friend! I’ve known him since  _ forever _ !”

 

“ _ Mmm _ -hmm,” Kip hummed, looking his friend up and down pointedly.

 

“W-what?” Nathaniel asked, blinking back at the other boy.

 

“That boy is weird!” Kip jeered, setting down his smoothie a bit too roughly. “I’m sorry, Nathaniel, I know you want us all to be friends, but something isn’t right with Dudley!”

 

“But… it’s  _ Dudley _ ,” Nathaniel protested, incredulous. “He never  _ does  _ anything. How could he be dangerous or anything like that?”

 

“Exactly!” Kip clicked his fingers and pointed a finger at Nathaniel dramatically. “He doesn’t even have a personality! I know a lot of jocks are boring, but no one’s  _ that  _ dull for real! It’s like he’s  _ hiding  _ something.”

 

“He might be dull,” Nathaniel grumbled, looking down at the table. “But he’s always been really nice to me, especially after my surgery. He literally carried me up the stairs when I came back from the hospital and looked after me for for the first few days. He didn’t even go home to see his family!”

 

Kip didn’t look impressed. “That sounds shady,” he snapped back, folding his arms. “I’m telling you, if you’ve got a note from yourself saying not to trust anyone you remember and Dudley is the  _ only  _ one you remember, you shouldn’t trust him!”   
  


“But that’s so unfair!” Nathaniel cried defensively. “He’s always put me first, no matter what!”

 

“Name three things he’s into,” Kip challenged the other boy gamely. “And don’t say basketball, because no one stuck with a Team Fodder jersey is having a good time on the court.”

 

Nathaniel was quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together in a firm line. “Umm…” he faltered, struggling. “He likes… movies.”

 

But that was all he had.

 

“You don’t even know!” Kip all but screamed, pointing his finger again. “You don’t even know!”

 

“But,” Nathaniel tried to speak, but suddenly his voice was much smaller in his throat and his heart was beating faster. The more he tried to think about it, it seemed like the less and less he knew about his best friend. He was always around, sure, but in terms of stuff they actually enjoyed doing together… nothing. “... Oh my gosh,” he muttered, a stricken expression growing on his face. “Oh my gosh, Kip! What am I supposed to do?!”

 

“Nothing! Jeez, haven’t you seen any horror movies?” Kip chastised his friend. “You don’t confront people about stuff like this. That’s how you get hit in the back of the head with a shovel. Besides,” he added, somewhat begrudgingly, as he noticed the tears welling in the boy’s eyes, “just because he’s shady, doesn’t mean he’s  _ dangerous _ .” The boy rolled his eyes as if he were scolding himself. “There are weirder people at our school, after all. They sit next to you in homeroom. I’m not saying you have to cut ties with your best friend, Nathaniel, I’m just saying to keep an  _ eye  _ on him.”

 

Nathaniel sniffed, still feeling quite upset from the disturbing wake-up call. “I guess,” he whined. “But I don’t see how I’m gonna do that! If he really is up to something, there’s no way he’s going to do any of it at school!”

 

“Well, why not now?” Kip suggested frankly. “He thinks we’re having a sleepover right now. We can always paint our nails, but playing spies sounds a little more fun.” His grin was started to look a shade more wicked than normal; he probably didn’t get the opportunity for mischief very often.

 

“R-right now?!” Nathaniel piped up with a furrow in his brow. “But how are we going to do that? He said he was cooking with his mother but we always hung out at Aunt Marjorie’s… I… I don’t even know where he  _ lives _ !” God, how could he have been so oblivious?! 

 

“Is he on Snapchat?” Kip asked frankly.

 

Nathaniel paused, caught off-guard. “Snap...chat?” he puzzled over the name of the app for a moment, pulling out his phone. “I’d almost forgotten about it,” he admitted, opening the app for the first time in over a year. He gave a little yip as the taller boy leaned over his shoulder and plucked the smartphone from his hands.

 

“This is perfect,” Kip smirked, doing something with the settings that Nathaniel was too short to see. “Found him.” He turned the screen around and revealed a map showing a cartoon characters of a conspicuously pale and freckled redhead that could only be Dudley. On the other side of the map was Nathaniel’s own Bitmoji avatar that he remembered making a few years ago when Snapchat was still popular. Next to him was another, more colourful avatar with telltale purple hair.

  
“Also, I added you on Snapchat,” Kip added. Nathaniel didn’t mind about that part: they had bigger problems.

 

“He’s on the other side of town!” he complained, leaning closer to the map. “How are we going to find out what he’s doing from all the way over here?!” As nice as the Baharis were, Nathaniel didn’t fancy the idea of spending their sleepover hitching a ride with Kip’s parents. They weren’t in middle school any more!

 

“If only there were someone with a car and a huge, barely restrained boner for you,” Kip said breezily, turning Nathaniel’s phone back around and fiddling with some more apps.

 

By the time Nathaniel cottoned on to the hidden meaning in Kip’s tone, it was already too late. The taller boy was already pressing the phone to his ear, and he used his free hand to keep his small friend at bay while he waited for the call to connect.

 

“Hiii Brent~,” he said brightly, his teeth gleaming in a huge grin. 

 

“Kip!” Nathaniel all but screamed in a strangled stage whisper, trying to get around the table to get his phone back. “ _ Don’t! _ ”

 

“Yeah, we were  _ just  _ talking about you actually,” Kip carried on without missing a beat. Nathaniel could almost hear Brent’s annoyed voice on the other end of the line. Kip clicked his tongue. “Fine, fine,” he sighed, throwing up one palm and leaning back to keep the phone out of reach as the Japanese boy all but climbed over the table in sheer desperation. “I’ll put you on speaker phone. One second...”

 

“Kip!” Nathaniel wailed, shaking the boy’s shoulders as though that might stop this madness. He slumped in defeat as Kip tapped the screen again with a big smirk painted on his face.

 

“Nathaniel?” Brent’s voice sounded from the phone’s speaker.

 

“H-hi Brent,” Nathaniel looked away from the phone as though it were really the swimmer’s sculpted face. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment. 

 

“Why is Kip calling me?” Brent groused.

 

“ _ About _ that,” Kip chimed in, leaning around Nathaniel’s slim shoulders. “How would you feel about driving that sweet little Miata back here to give us a ride? We want to go on an adventure.”

 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, presumably while the jock processed what had been said. “... I  _ just  _ drove across town to drop him off,” Brent grumbled.

 

“Pleeease?” Kip simpered. 

 

“ _ Ugh _ ,” Brent groaned. “What’s in it for me, then?”

 

“I can add you on Nathaniel’s Snapchat,” Kip shot back.

 

“Deal,” Brent shot back just as quickly.

 

“Kip!” Nathaniel screamed. Scrambling to his feet, he could only watch in horror as Kip messed with his phone some more, then held it up to take a picture. Cheeks flushed and clothes rumpled, he felt like a deer in the headlights as his friend (albeit a traitorous one) took a snap and sent it off to Brent. They heard the chime of Brent’s phone come through on the call.

 

“... Your photos  _ suck _ ,” Brent complained.

 

“Take more on your own time,” Kip scoffed. “Are you coming to get us or not?”

 

“ _ Fiiiine _ ,” Brent gave in with an exasperated growl. “Just don’t call me again!” There was a faint beep as the call disconnected. 

 

“That’s how you get things done,” Kip said silkily, handing Nathaniel back his phone. The smaller boy snatched it and clutched it to his chest, lips trembling.

 

“You’re so  _ meeeaan! _ ,” Nathaniel wailed, eyes tearing up.

 

“Ah, ah, ah~,” Kip wagged his finger. “I’m helping you come out of your shell. And you don’t have your contacts in, so don’t try to turn the waterworks on me.”

 

“I can’t help it,” Nathaniel sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. Looking down at his phone, he startled as it buzzed with a notification. It was a Snapchat from Brent! Resisting the urge to cover his face with his hand and look through his fingers, he cautiously tapped the screen. He was immediately greeting with a close-up of Brent’s crotch, a familiar hand squeezing the outline of the swimmer’s cock through his sweatpants. Staring wide-eyed for a moment, Nathaniel waited for the image to disappear before he realised that Brent  _ hadn’t even set a timer for it _ .

 

“What was that?” Kip asked suspiciously.

 

“Nothing!” Nathaniel answered too quickly, stabbing his finger at the screen to close the image. His face was bright red.

 

“Oh my god,” Kip’s grin grew again. “Was that a dick pic?!”

 

“N-no!” Nathaniel stammered. Immediately, he felt bad about lying. “I mean… kind of. You can’t see anything though.”

 

“Replay it,” Kip said urgently.

 

“What?! No!” Nathaniel cried, feeling the heat spread down his neck. “It’s private!”

 

“Nathaniel, you  _ have  _ to replay it,” Kip said seriously. “Don’t you know anything about boys? It will drive him crazy!”

 

Nathaniel looked down at the ‘hold to replay’ button, wincing as he gingerly pressed his finger to the screen and held. The photo was no less steamy the second time around, and he found himself feeling even hotter than before as he quickly tapped the screen again to close the image and stuffed his phone back into his pocket, trying to ignore his friend’s snickering.

 

“You’re too adorable,” Kip grinned. “Come on, we have to go make an excuse to mama before Brent gets here. As long as we get something to eat and we’re back before curfew, it’ll be fine.”

 

As his phone buzzed ominously in his pocket, Nathaniel had a feeling the evening was going to be slightly less than fine, but it didn’t seem like he had a choice in the matter.


End file.
